Lux Aeterna
by Krahae
Summary: Ranma's curse gets altered during his time in Jusendo. Hoping to fix the issue, he returns - only to make things even worse. Now, he has to seek out the very thing that's been a bane to his life, to fix it. Magic. Mostly a Ranma-chan story. AN inside.
1. Chapter 1

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

–

The story behind the story, as it is, for Lux is something I'll openly admit was inspired by another author. Some of the setting and ideas put forward in another work, "Ranma's White Wings", and "Mahoranma" caught my attention, and for the most part I enjoyed those works. I wanted to play in that sandbox, and this came out. Credit to those two works for inspiration and snippets, though I'm trying to spin them my way. Go read. They are fun.

I wanted to do a similar project, working off some of the world described, but in a different fashion, which brings us here. I won't be de-aging Ranma, or locking him despite the way things sound. This will however be primarily a Ranma-chan fic, if that's the sort of thing you want to know ahead of time. Instead of working with or parallel to the usual Negima story like one would expect, Ranma here will quickly begin a different sort of journey, but it will intersect often with the usual cast of Negima. As for Nerima... it'll come up in time, and in snippets.

The setting, initially, occurs at the beginning of class A's 3rd year, hence "3-A". Up till now, Negima is canon compatible. Ranma has just defeated Saffron, but the failed wedding did not occur for reasons that will be covered later. I have not decided on or considered a pairing, but there will be some... interactions.

–

Chapter One

–

It was a good example of how messed up Ranma found his life, that a drink of water could bring everything tumbling down. Currently male, if scalded badly, the cursed martial artist sat across from one of the last people he expected to be speaking with civilly. "I'm not locked, but it keeps getting worse. I... I don't know what to do, and it all started here, so..."

"So you came to us," Kiima finished for him, nodding with a pensive expression. She herself had been surprised at the young man's audacity, not that her people bore him any ill will. Quite the contrary. The battle with Saffron had given the Phoenix new hope for a peaceful future under a Lord that wasn't a tyrant, and with the return of their own spring within Mt. Phoenix, much could be done to repair the damage wrought by the last war with the Musk. Returning her attention to the young man before her and his request, Kiima sighed, rubbing at her temple. "I'm not sure what to say. The taps are, at their best, strange and capricious."

Confused, Ranma tilted his head, "What? You mean those statues you guys used for faucets?"

Laughing quietly, Kiima shook her head, white hair flaring about her shoulders slightly as her wings ruffled slightly. "No, no. You are Japanese, so I expect you are at least a little familiar with the idea of place-spirits?"

Nodding, Ranma began to get a bad feeling about his errand. "You mean like Kami."

"More or less," the Captain of the Phoenix Guard replied. "Imagine this, if you will – the water of the taps originates in the house of a Kami, and lingers there till it is pushed up by pressure. Once it escapes into the taps, its suddenly at a loss for that presence. Being so close to such a potent spirit can only do strange things, after all.

"Now, this water, already charged with power, has no way to express it. For a long time, it flowed around and contained a Kami, we'll say for simplicity's sake," she explained, setting a small plate of meats and cheeses from a nearby tray between them. Despite the food before him, Ranma remained focused, listening to his host's story. "Let us assume that this water, so charged, feels a lack for the presence of that Kami. Now, free of the taps, it bubbles up from the ground as springs, in nearby Jusenkyo. What you think of as a curse, in this case, may simply be the water's attempt to find a Kami to satisfy its lack."

Mulling that over, Ranma shook his head hard. "That's nice and all, and it kinda makes sense, but what's this got to do with me needing more and more boiling water to change now?"

Kiima nodded, expecting the question. "Think about it. You were submersed in the pure cold waters of Jusendo. The same water that later becomes the cursed pools of Jusenkyo. Bathing in it, drinking it, you may well have, for lack of a better phrase way to say it, strengthened your curse."

"In that case, what about the hot water? Won't that fix it?"

Shaking her head, the Phoenix Captain rested her taloned hands on Ranma's shoulders, "We use the hot water to accelerate the change in our Lords. What can you imagine would happen to a human, bearing a curse?"

"Would it age me?"

Kiima shrugged. "Possibly. We simply don't know. It would be dangerous to try, however, without knowing what could happen."

Ranma favored the phoenix woman with a somewhat lost smile. "Hey, it's not like I got much to loose, right?"

Sighing, Kiima stared into the young man's eyes, looking for some trace of hesitation. Finding none but instead a vast well of loss and sadness, she marveled at his determination. Quietly, she tried once more to dissuade him, "You may die, Ranma. Is the risk worth it?"

Recalling his last conversation in Nerima, Ranma waved the woman's concerns aside. "Like I said, got nothing to loose. When can we do this?"

–

The hills below were becoming fewer and fewer, and with them, any cover she would likely find to mask her travel. Without the mountains, she would be too visible, too exposed to the few hunters stupid or brave enough to still track her. Ranma had to hand it to the Joketsuzoku, once they set their sights on a goal, nothing else would do.

Too bad she had other plans for her life, the redhead mused as she touched down on only mountain in the area to show hints of human habitation. She'd learn quickly that temples with walls and long staircases tended to enjoy those things being respected and observed, not bypassed, as a strange pattern erupted under her feet, literally.

Screaming as she was sent airborne completely against her will and from the pain of a frankly unbelievable amount of energy discharging into her, Ranma lost her focus. Instead of taking back to the air, which would have saved her another contact against the strange protections the temple had, she impacted the ground again, causing another eruption. By the third, instinct had taken over, and a very scorched, mostly naked, and brightly glowing female Ranma hovered above the temple, as a stooped and balding figure stepped from a doorway. "Oh? So the stupid tengu are back..." he began, only to pause and whip his head up at the figure above him, eyes widening in shock. "...impossible."

'Impossible' regarded him with liquid silver churning through her irises, as the aura about her condensed for a moment into a single hand, before lashing out where the man had been faster than the eye could see. The pillar of discharged ki from the impact couldn't dissipate fast enough to be absorbed by the earth, and so shot heavenward, as stone and air screamed at the sudden connection.

The old monk, his staff dully jingling at his side, regarded the figure bearing down on him in a falcon's stoop, her wings back in a vicious dive and considered his options. His rolling dodge had cost him the initiative, and so for now he had to play a defensive battle against an unknown foe, with the advantage of infinite upper ground. Seeing the winged girl's next move, he cursed, "Oh this is going to leave a mark," he muttered, before snapping three fingers into an odd twisting pattern. "_Tō. Zen. Rin_. The stone remembers its origins."

It was a simple onmyōdō mantra, made popular when the esoteric temples had to defend themselves ironically enough from tengu and other flying demon pests. Normally, it would cause a stone to shoot from the ground into the air with some force, and in the hands of a skilled practitioner, the projectiles could rival bullets in force and damage.

He wasn't going for subtle or fatal wounds, but the figure before him seemed to have gotten lost in her own ki, reacting from his seals and wards, and had no such compunctions. It was rather obvious that she didn't intend him any harm initially – but then again, his protections weren't very smart. "Zap people who fly and land without passing the gate" seemed like such a good idea at the time... Lost in her rage, she'd need to be either knocked out or sealed to likely come around.

Which is when when he incanted the mantra he did, a stone the mass of a small car rocketed up into the stooping figure's path.

He did not anticipate her simply punching it into gravel. "Oh for the love of good alcohol," he swore, planting his staff in the ground with a disgruntled huff. "Fine! Lets get physical, you overgrown pigeon."

Later, he would rue living to regret those words. The good news was, at least the redhead contritely trying to tend his wounds was cute. If a violent maniac. The wings seemed familiar however...

Never let it be said that Goemon the Seal Master was fast on the uptake. Intelligent – yes. Bearing a strong degree of common sense and self preservation – not so much. It would take another week of bedridden recuperation before he considered the merits of teaching the irritable winged girl who didn't much like his innuendo sealing and ki focusing as also good for his own health.

You can occasionally teach an old dog new tricks. If you have a big enough stick, anyway.

–

"_Next stop, Mahora Academy Central_," the train attendant's voice chimed over the train's speakers, causing the young man's brow to furrow. Checking the card with directions in his hand once more, he sighed. Realizing his somewhat depressed behavior not only resembled something Ryoga would do, but also happened to be gaining him unwanted attention, Ranma straightened, clearing his features. Pointedly ignoring the girls around him that seemed to be outnumbering the men ten-to-one, the martial artist ran through his tentative plans once more.

As Kiima had expected, water from the Jusendo hot tap hadn't had the effect he'd expected. In fact, due to the shift in the curse from the battle with Saffron, it seemed to qualify as cold enough to trigger his transformation... which of course lead to no end of annoyance and complication. Realizing he was getting upset pointlessly, the young man unconsciously sighed again, drawing more curious glances from the young students around him. As had become quick habit, Ranma shifted his left hand, running the beads that wrapped around it between finger and thumb, taking small comfort in their calming influence.

As the train slowed for the station, Ranma's thoughts drifted back to his own travels. For all his luck recently seemed to be bad, that small side-trip that the Phoenix Captain had suggested had really paid off. What were the odds of finding a Master of Sealing Arts on the way back to Japan? Ranma didn't question it. He figured having some control over his transformation was better than none, after all. The Master had passed along a tidbit of advice, something Ranma had a desperate need for, with no other leads to follow now. Apparently, one of the old Master's colleagues was a chief in some mage association, based out of Kantō. He had suggested, after much... coercion, that the cursed martial artist should seek the man out. Being the proverbial spider in the middle of a web of contacts that were also mages, he figured someone would have a clue where Ranma should look next, if not be able to outright offer a solution to his problem.

Ranma shook off his musings as the train shuddered into the station, brakes squalling noisily. Once the train stopped and the initial press and rush had passed, Ranma stepped from the train as well. As he stepped into the sun from the small station, left hand shielding his eyes, the card in his hand disintegrated into a fine powder, drifting through his fingers and into the slight breeze that followed him from the train station. "Suppose this is the place," the pigtailed teen remarked, a frown clear on his features. He knew the card had magic in it of a sort, but it still bothered him to be so exposed to it. Magic, after all, had done nothing good for him in his life. Sadly, it took magic to counter magic, and unless someone could discover the link between ki, magic, and what had changed after his latest trip to Juesndo, he needed an expert to get anything done.

That of course, brought another question to mind, "But why the hell is someone like the chief of the Kantō Magic Association Dean of a girl's Academy? Hope he's not some pervert like the old letch." Shrugging to himself, the pig-tailed teen idly played with the beads wrapped around his left wrist and hand, picking up a brisk walk that would get him to his location quickly. In his distraction, Ranma missed the pointed look his muttering had garnered from a pair of students, and one diminutive teacher.

Konoka Konoe, Asuna Kagurazaka, and Negi Springfield blinked after the passing man, only remembering they had a schedule to keep after he was out of sight. "That was odd," Asuna hazarded with a laugh as they walked along, trying to gloss over the fact the young man had just been talking about magic and her best friend's grandfather in the same sentence. "And here I thought we were full-up on crazies, right?" She quipped nervously. It was hard enough to keep Negi's weirdness secret, but if Konoka started asking around...

Was Konoka's grandfather involved? Something tickled at the back of Asuna's mind, but she discarded the idea out of hand. Mahora was weird, sure, but the Dean? A mage? Her lips curled into a grin. What a silly idea. Taking Konoka's hand, the girl with the light auburn hair set in twin ponytails adorned with little bells started her usual morning jog. At her side, the more subdued girl with long hair and skates seemed pensive and thoughtful.

Ignoring her friend's idle chatter, Konoka Konoe blinked after the young man, who looked to be a year, perhaps two older than her. Much to her friend's peace of mind, Konoka seemed to have missed the mage part of the young man's muttering. "Did... did he just call my grandfather a pervert?"

At Asuna's side Negi Springfield, the diminutive ten year-old teacher of English at Mahora Academy, worried what it meant that someone with such an obvious exposure to magic that he could feel it from some distance away would be at the school. Though he knew that his own old headmaster had been in contact with Dean Konoe, Negi too had missed the fact the old man was a mage. If that was the case... how many others were at Mahora? Especially if Konoe was the chief of the Kantō region as that young man had claimed. Did that mean that Konoka had potential as a mage, too?

More importantly however, he was wondering why they were running. "Why did you drag me along again? Term doesn't start till tomorrow," he whined pointlessly. All his attempts to dislodge his hand from Asuna's were met with failure. The girl really did have more strength than she appeared to.

"Because Takahata-sensei is giving a lecture today, and since someone took his job, I have to attend these when I can!"

"B-B-But why are you dragging me along too?"

"How else can I keep you out of trouble, brat?"

–

Once Mahora came into view, Ranma had to admit, the school was a few orders of magnitude above Furinkan, in a number of ways. The first was sheer size, of course. Whistling lowly, he spun in place outside in the main courtyard, at the foot of the three-tiered steps that lead up to the Academy proper. The main building he could see was built in a style that reminded Ranma of pictures he'd seen of old European architecture, rather than the usual designs he'd encountered from other Japanese schools. He had heard a clock-tower chiming the time on the walk up, after getting passed by some younger students and what looked like someone's little brother, but wasn't in a hurry himself. Frankly, he'd rather wait out the rush of what students there seemed to be present, than deal with them looking around. Aside from the main building before him, he could see the massive tree that a few of the tourist brochures spoke of, and admittedly, it was rather huge. "World Tree," he mused, seeing the crown of the massive thing peeking above the buildings between it and himself.

Inside the Academy, he was reminded of his initial impression, as the furnishings and décor seemed to mirror the style he'd observed. Despite the age he assumed the Academy to be, the building was in amazing shape – the floors were clean and unscuffed, the walls lacked dents and marks, and the wood seemed wholly intact. Ranma doubted Furinkan looked this good on the day it opened its doors, to be honest.

Walking through the halls of Mahora Academy and thinking on Furinkan, Ranma was once again reminded that his latest attempt at school had been less than positive. It was little consolation to him that he could recall the period where he and Ryoga schooled together in the past being something to be proud of, scoring in the top twenty-percent of his class, when his record at Furinkan placed him solidly in the bottom. It wasn't as if he could help that, however, with challenges, the tension at the Tendo home, and the curse all picking at his mind constantly. Seeing the numbers above the rooms, Ranma mused that this would have been his third year – though, for him it would have been his last year at high school, rather than what he had to assume was the equivalent for junior high, here.

"Though, large as the campus is, there's likely a high school around here somewhere," he mused, passing a pretty blonde-haired woman who eyed him curiously. "Excuse me," he offered in passing without pausing in his search, or sparing her more than a cursory glance.

"Ah," the woman – Shizuna Minamoto – herself paused, calling after the youth to get his attention. "Are you looking for something, sir?"

Ranma turned, recalling that he _was_ somewhat turned around. Obviously an adult would either know where the offices were, or would work here, he figured. "Yeah, looking for Dean Konoe, if you know where I can find him."

Confusion reigned over the woman's face, briefly. "This... you are aware Mahora is a _girl's_ school? The boys campus-"

"Not here to enroll or anything, miss," Ranma interrupted, before the woman could get into her argument or explanation. "Sorry, but like I said, got business with the Dean. Doesn't have anything to do with the school."

Somewhat nonplussed, the woman nodded. "Ah, very well then. I can lead you to his secretary, at least. You should have an escort in Mahora regardless, considering the nature of the school."

Ranma shrugged. It was progress, and he didn't mind someone cutting down on his time wandering around as lost as Ryoga. "Sure. Though, figured it wouldn't be a big deal, before term and all. You have classes all year long here?"

"Oh, there's always something going on at Mahora," the woman offered with a slight smile. Though the comment – aimed at seeming mysterious and perhaps a little playful, to gauge the young man – had a different effect than expected. The mask of neutrality broke slightly, as a scowl marred his features.

"Well, seems I'm in the right place then, at least."

Confused, curious, and a little put-off by the young man, Shizuna indicated a corridor. "I'll see to it you get there, Mister...?"

"Ranma," the pig-tailed teen offered briefly, a clicking sound drifting up from his left hand.

The school counselor followed the sound, noting what looked like a long string of intricate beads, wound around the young man's hand numerous times beginning at the wrist. From her angle, she could see that they crossed his palm and the back of his hand once, before leaving a small portion to settle in a final loop that ended in a strange charm, that the young man apparently liked to worry between thumb and forefinger. Shizuna wondered if he grew uncomfortable, having them wound between his fingers like that. "I'm not familiar with the practice," she demurred, indicating his hand. Noting his surprise and sudden wariness, she schooled the curiosity from her face. "Catholic? Or Buddhist?"

Ranma winced slightly, recalling that the man he was meeting was supposedly a mage. Would he have others, on the payroll? "Hell," he wondered morosely to himself, "is this a magical girl training school?" That would just make his day. Outwardly, he was merely shaking his head. "Nah. Just something I picked up in China," he hedged, albeit truthfully.

"I see," Shizuna replied in a neutral voice. Though not involved with the various odd occurrences around the school herself, she had grown sensitive enough to feel a particularly strong something from those beads. Initially, she'd been worried it was the young man himself, which could have presented a problem. Having narrowed it down, she made a note to inform the Dean's secretary. "Ah, also, for when we reach the secretary, your family name...?"

"Just Ranma, for now," he replied, eyes fixed forward as a somewhat rueful and sad grin spread across his features. "Family's a sticking point at the moment. Though, if you have to know, it's Saotome. Just don't use it freely, I guess."

"He really isn't painting himself in a positive light," Minamoto noted to herself with a little concern. Still, she'd known stranger people, who were still quite nice. What tripped across her sensibilities wasn't his somewhat rough manner, his odd clothing, the arguably 'mundane' beads, or his dubious family situation, but his demeanor. The young man walked and behaved like he belonged here, or had every right to be walking the halls of a private girl's academy unescorted or announced. That kind of brazen self-assurance wasn't something she expected out of a teenager.

"I'll keep that in mind," she offered finally, as they neared the office wing of the school. "I'll inform the Dean's secretary so she can make an appointment, or see if there's an opening for you."

"Nah, no need for that," Ranma replied to the woman, nodding briefly to the secretary nearby as he passed her by without pause. Shizuna noted it was much the same reaction he'd had with her. "I'll just head on in."

"But, sir!-"

"Saotome-san-"

Not many people knew that the doors to the Dean's office of Mahora Academy were reinforced with magic. Fewer among those that did know, knew that the chief mage of the Kantō region locked those doors with that same magic, except when his secretary buzzed him to let him know he had a visitor or appointment, or he was expecting someone. After all, it was a modicum of the respect he was due for his position, to have a little privacy in his supposed sanctum within the school.

It was no surprise then that the young man walked up to the doors to turn the knob and find them locked. "Huh, must be stuck..." he muttered.

The secretary had stood by that point, and was trying to get his attention.

"Eh, just a little bit, then," Shizuna heard Ranma mutter, his eyes focused on the doors, as _something_ seemed to press outward from the young man, before a screeching clang and splintering rip caused the two women present to shield their ears.

Not quite understanding why she had ducked and closed her eyes, Shizuna blinked as she peered up, then paled dramatically. There, in what was left of the Dean's doorway, stood Ranma with half of one of the massive oak doors dangling from his hand, apparently ripped free of the rest of its bulk by sheer force alone. She refused to think about the implications when it came to the locking and reinforcing spells – really, it wasn't even the first day of term yet!

Letting the mangled panel of wood clatter to the floor, Ranma reached back and scratched at the base of his braid in embarrassment, as the aged man from within the office came into view at the now-renovated doorway to his office. "Ah, heh. Ranma Saotome. Here to speak with a Dean Konoe. Sorry about this."

–

"So, you are the young one my associate in China spoke of," the old – if not the oldest he'd ever seen – man before Ranma said, folding his hands before himself with a slight smile. "I admit, I was more than a little skeptical of his assessment, but seeing is believing, as they say."

Ranma blinked, before coughing into his hand. "Ah, assessment? He just told me to look up the Dean of Mahora. I didn't know he'd send word ahead of me." Though he'd expected someone like the old Sealing Master he'd been referred by, Ranma was a little intimidated by the man before him. True, both were old and gray, as far as hair went, but he'd not been prepared for the feeling of suppressed power the man gave off. It wasn't the same as the old man in China, who specialized in ki much to his good fortune, but something else that was nearly as familiar, if vastly unwelcome.

Magic.

True, considering what Ranma was there for, it made sense, but in his history, he'd never run across someone who had that much of an aura of the stuff about them. A long time ago, he'd thought Cologne was something to be intimidated by in that regard. Now, however, he understood that the old ghoul was just using parlor tricks and a few trinkets to dazzle him.

Konoemon Konoe was the real deal.

And he'd just recently ripped apart the door to the man's office.

"Not the best first impression," he thought to himself, while outwardly trying to seem attentive and as nonthreatening as possible, despite the burning, incandescent anger that the presence of magic sparked in him. Caused, of course, by the complications such things had put on him in the past. Oh, he'd come to terms with his curse, for the most part, but it was magic itself that started drawing the young man's ire since then. Every time his life seemed to take a more peaceful, reasonable path, magic would show up and throw everything back in to chaos.

Frankly, he was sick to death of it, and the presence of so much of it around him was beginning to fray at his self control. That same control was being held firmly in hand, however, and he desperately needed it at that moment. That of course was due to the other mages who had flocked to the Dean's side, by some unknown signal that was probably magic as well. Two were women with swords, that unlike that idiot Kuno, looked to actually know how to use them, a gray-haired man with glasses that had the feel of a decent fighter about him, a European man who looked somewhat out of place in his expensive suit and crystal-studded rod, a guy that reminded him of Tofu Ono oddly with his square glasses and slight smile, and finally the blonde woman from earlier.

Dean Konoe smiled, turning his head to indicate a rather impressive looking bird of prey that was perched nearby. "Goemon's friend here was quite prompt arriving with your letter of introduction," the old man stated, his motion causing the rings in his elongated earlobes to rattle slightly against each other. This caught the bird's attention, and it called softly. "Indeed. Yes, I'll have a return letter for you soon, Ibuki.

"He mentioned you may find you way here, though I wasn't expecting you quite so quickly." Nodding to himself, the old man reached up to smooth down his grayed mustache. "Goemon's letter mentioned that you were quite the ki adept, though recent events have caused some disruption in your natural flows...?"

Looking to the others present, then back to the Dean, Ranma realized that the man's question wasn't so much a request for clarification, as a demonstration. Seeing as none of those present would be leaving, Ranma resigned himself to being somewhat of a spectacle. That did not mean, however, he was going to do so on their terms, regardless of who these mages thought they were.

"I'm not so much a ki-adept as he was, but more of a martial artist," the young man corrected. "However, there are some... problems with me going all out. First off being I just don't want to," he explained, earning some frowns from the surrounding mages, which at the moment he simply didn't worry about. "Second, I'd have to remove my own seal, and that's another issue which I'm just not going to deal with. Last, well... no offense, but I don't think any of you would be much of a match if I did."

There were the usual mutters and indignant noises at that, mainly from the two sword-wielding women. Surprisingly, it was the slightly-smiling gray haired man in the suit with the glasses that spoke up. "So, you'd be willing to spar with someone, to demonstrate for us? I wouldn't ask, but we do need to properly assess your potential, so we know how to help."

Ranma narrowed his eyes at the seemingly innocuous man, before nodding slowly. "Yeah. I'd be alright with that."

Konoemon clapped his hands once, before announcing to the room, "Excellent. We shall adjourn to the third basement, so as to not disturb those outside our activities."

–

The third basement, Ranma discovered, felt more like a massive underground stadium, at least two-stories tall, and apparently excavated out of the bedrock below Mahora. Whistling lowly, he took in the surroundings, trying to discern the source of the rather good lighting and air, as it was fresh and not at all stagnant and musty. His own destination was clear as there was a space already set aside it seemed in the middle of the area that looked well-used and abused by those that had similar purposes here previously.

"As I said, this testing area is deep enough and warded well against intrusion and unintentional observation," the Dean explained, gesturing to the wide, scarred arena. "As you were sent to us by a colleague, speaking to you of such things isn't a concern... However, I must request that you keep the nature of our meeting and discussion secret.

"Mahora is many things," the old man continued, as they walked out toward the middle of the stone arena. "Superficially, it is a vast campus, for those both young and old. Colleges for a narrow few areas of specialty exist, alongside entry-level schools for children. Deeper, it is the seat of the Kantō Magic Association, a Western-focused group that oversees, assists, and trains those with potential for magic. Goemon mentioned in his letter that he had told you as much, I believe."

Ranma grit his teeth slightly, mouth drawing into a fine line. "I understand what you're saying, and yeah he did. What I'm curious about, I suppose, is why Goemon sent me here, and what you can do for my curse, or the other magic affecting me."

Konoemon nodded, as the others following them stayed silent. "To assess that, we need practical data."  
"Why?" Ranma challenged. "I can tell you about all of what went on. So why make me jump through hoops like this?"

It was the graying teacher who answered, "For one, as much as we'd like to claim it, there aren't many services that are ever truly free." Striding forward so he counted himself with Ranma and the Dean, the man introduced himself. "I'm Takamichi Takahata, a teacher at this school. The information we received stated that you were a ki-adept, but you countered that claiming to be a martial artist instead. So, naturally, we have reservations on taking anything reported at face value."

"So you think I'm lying?"

"Not at all," the teacher replied, taking a moment to press his glasses back into place firmly. "We simply don't like unknowns, or a lack of data. Which is why we are here. For the services we'd be willing to assist you with, we'll need payment of a sort. This is where we'll gauge how you can do so."

Ranma snorted in annoyance. "Yeah, sure. And how do I know you can even help me? I mean, I can feel tell you and the two kenshi have some talent with ki," Ranma indicated, jerking a thumb back toward the two women bearing katanas. "And the old man's got enough magic about him for even me to notice, but you've not really given me much to work with, here." Turning and stopping in his walk, Ranma scanned his gaze across those who had accompanied he and the Dean. "Goemon sent me here to get a mage's view of the the things he could sense about me. What does testing me have to do with your ability to help?"

"He has a point," Konoemon rumbled, his words silencing the irritated mumbling that had sprung up at the young man's words. Nodding, the Dean reached up to smooth his mustache. "Forgive us if we seem abrupt and less than forthcoming. Most often, those bearing the touch of magic are wary and unwilling to discuss the details. They consider it a private matter."

"Yeah, well," the pigtailed martial artist replied somewhat blandly, "no one else I've run into has made much of letting private things stay that way."

"Indeed," the Dean mused. "But, as my colleague Takahata-san said, very few services are free, or without their own cost in either time or effort. Goemon's assessment of you was rather favorable, and on it alone I wouldn't hesitate to act on your behalf, trusting your honor to be sufficient in assuring compensation for our services."

Grudgingly, Ranma conceded the point. "But, since I'm not a ki-adept – a onmyōji as Goemon called himself – you have no way to know how I'll repay a debt." Reaching up, he rubbed at the base of his braid idly. "Alright. I don't really loose anything by doing this."

Sparing the young man a smile, Konoemon gestured to a bench, near where the other supposed mages were moving to sit. "Goemon briefed us on what he could, without compromising you. If you would please, tell us about the magic you have come in contact with."

Frowning, the young man chose to stand rather than sit like the rest, or like Takahata, to lean on a nearby wall. After a moment's thought, he began to speak, "...I suppose the first time was at Jusenkyo, hidden in the Bayankala mountain range somewhat south of Mount Kensei, in the Qinghai Province of China. It was nearing the end of our decade-long training trip-"

"Decade? Surely not. You're so young," the suited man with the gemmed cane interrupted, in a clearly disbelieving tone.

"Gandolfini," the Dean mumbled, gaining the man's attention. "If you would, let the boy speak before asking your questions...?" Frowning, the man in question waved a hand, falling silent.

Sparing him a sour look, Ranma went on, though there was significantly less patience in his voice. "Right. Jusenkyo. Pools of Sorrow and all that. Fall in a pool, get a curse," he tersely explained. "Cold water changes your form."

Konoemon hummed in thought as considered Ranma's words. "Hmm, yes. That is a known hotspot for powerful death and transformation magic. You say then that you bear a Jusenkyo curse?"

Frowning, Ranma nodded an affirmative. "Spring of Drowned Girl. I change genders."

Two of those gathered nodded faintly, the Dean being one, while the other was the man that vaguely reminded Ranma of Dr. Tofu Ono. "Would you care to demonstrate the curse?" The lookalike asked.

"Later," Ranma stalled, shaking his head. "I'll have to anyway, but there's no need to rush and do it now.

"After that..." he trailed off, thinking for a moment on what he should and shouldn't say. In a way, very few of the things that had happened to him had been good. Most were either mistakes, done in the hopes of harming him, or consequences of fights or challenges he'd had. The problem was, Ranma admitted, how much should he tell them in the hopes of getting the taint of magic cleaned from him? How much did he want to risk of himself to these people? And... what if Goemon had been right?

"After that," Ranma began again, his voice steady, "there was the Phoenix Pill. I was... stuck in my female form due to a Joketsuzoku plot. The Pill was the only way I could tolerate water hot enough to trigger my change."

"How long were you stuck?" The blonde woman from earlier asked hesitantly. After clearing her throat, she went on, "I mean... I can imagine being born male, you hadn't spent much time as a female before that, correct?"

Seeing where the woman was going with her question, Ranma rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he paced. "Yes. I have been locked for more than the needed month, if that's what you mean."

Looking sheepish, Shizuna glanced away, "Ah..."

"Don't worry about it," Ranma waved the woman's concern away. "Everyone wonders. That's one of the least embarrassing questions, to be honest." Sweeping the rest of the group around him with a sharp glare, he continued, "and also the most embarrassing one I'll answer, if I'm clear.

"Anyway. The Phoenix Pill's magic makes one nearly immune to flames, the obvious side-effect being a massive tolerance to heat. That got me around the pressure point, but also added another layer to magic I'd been exposed to."

The European man – the one in the suit with the silly cane – chimed in at that, "And it was permanent?"

Ranma nodded. "Both are – Jusenkyo and the Pill."

"Messy," the man replied with a snort of disgust. "Very messy."

"My friend among the Phoenix people – I'll get to them in a minute – explained that I was lucky that hot water even worked after that, considering much of what makes magic function is perception, and since my tolerance and reaction to heat effectively went completely from one extreme to the other..."

The suited man nodded, "Yes, that would be tricky."

"A few other minor things occurred between then and the biggest complication," Ranma continued, picking up his tale again. "I can list them in detail some time, but Kiima and I believe the biggest change came with Jusendo, and the source of Jusenkyo's waters."

Heaving a weary sigh, Ranma stopped his pacing, steeling himself for what was to come. "You have to understand, that even before Jusenkyo, the Pill, and all the craziness that was home, I'd been refining ki for use in my body for years. I can jump insane heights, lift things weighing many times my weight, run fast enough that most people can only see a blur... all from pushing myself, and being pushed, to my limits almost daily since that trip began. Even coming back to Japan did little to end that, as Pops used a number of agreements to set up what was basically a daily challenge situation for me, so that even once we settled, I was still training," Ranma explained wearily. Checking his left hand and the sealing beads there, the young man nodded to himself, focusing his ki with his right hand.

Those watching blinked in surprise as a red-gold sphere of visible ki winked into existence in the young man's hand. "I can project and manipulate ki outside my body." Releasing his focus, the wisp of light dissipated. "At Jusendo, I was pushed to my limit. I had to fight an newly-ascended greater Phoenix, to protect someone I cared about." He ignored the incredulous looks from some of those listening, as he really didn't need their belief to know what he did. He had proof. "During the battle, I was doused in and ended up drinking some of the original water that eventually makes its way to Jusenkyo. Kiima and I think that caused my transformation – curse of you prefer – to intensify over time, combined with one of my emotional coping mechanisms and the Phoenix Pill."

The Dean raised a brow. "Coping mechanism?"

Almost immediately, the temperature in the area nearest to Ranma dropped a solid ten degrees Celsius, bringing it to the point it was uncomfortable in the cooler underground air. More than one of those present twitched or began to react, before the Dean held up his hand. "I see... you learned quite a few Joketsuzoku techniques as well, didn't you Ranma-san?"

In a voice devoid of emotion or inflection, the young man replied, "More than I wish I had. The cost was never worth it, in the end." Releasing the technique, the air warmed considerably, while Ranma seemed to shiver slightly as warmth and emotion returned to his eyes and expression. "That was the Soul of Ice, or rather, a ki-enhanced version of it that I used to counter the flames of the Phoenix I had to fight. With this," Ranma held up his left hand, displaying the beads wrapped around it, "I'm limited in how powerful I can make it. That was my limit, for purpose of demonstration, and a little less powerful than what I used against him."

"Then, I can definitely see how such things would compound, considering ki is essentially the energy of your spirit," Dean Konoe noted. "Any magic currently active on your person would react to such things, if those effects were made to be permanent."

"And I was using the Soul of Ice a lot, once we returned to Japan. It was either that, or end up losing what little self control I had with how things ended up. Looking back, I can see I was just making things worse, but I didn't know how things would react then. By the time I admitted I needed help, the transformation was shifted to the point that I needed fully boiling water in large quantities to activate it, and anything below that would reverse the change back to my female form. Suffice to say, I began spending a lot of time as a girl."

Nodding, the Dean leaned back with a thoughtful look on his face. "And the Pill's effects didn't negate the heat of the water, making it tolerable?"

Ranma smiled ruefully. "Taking a bath in boiling water gets to even someone like me," the teen admitted, earning sympathetic winces from the other males as they envisioned such a thing. The few women that made the connection that Ranma was a woman when doing so, also looked uncomfortable. "Kiima and I tried to reverse the effect using the hot water tap from Jusendo – there are two taps there, one hot, one cold – which the Phoenix use to help their Lords ascend. It... didn't go as we'd hoped."

"Why would they help you?" Takahata asked, having been silent for some small while. "The Phoenix people are very isolated, and it's in most party's self-interest not to bother them. It doesn't make much sense."

Irritated at another interruption, Ranma explained with an edge to his voice, "I'd already made contact with Saffron over his actions toward my family and friends. He was a maniac, who didn't give a damn about his people, only his own power. He was indoctrinated by a hide-bound old bastard that had delusions of grandeur over tales and histories of war and conquest that the Phoenix had written about, thousands of years earlier. He took advantage of the reborn Lord in the hopes of remaking their Empire, in the same way the Huns did."

Pinning the skeptic with a terse look, the young man continued, "I admit, we weren't exactly working on good information, considering our source at the time was Ku Lon, one of the Joketsuzoku Elders I had to put up with. Turns out their people and the Phoenix are something like contesting groups, over the valleys where Jusenkyo sits and some other territory. After I forced Saffron into a rebirth cycle," Ranma paused as the room erupted into muttering and whispers, pacing with a sigh as the Dean tried to still the chatter. Eventually, Ranma got tired of waiting, and began again in a loud voice, quieting them. "As I was saying! After Saffron was beaten, the Joketsuzoku annexed some of the valley that the Phoenix had claim to. Part of my... payment, for the help I got – not that it was what I wanted, but I had a debt, like you mentioned – was 'evicting' them, and keeping the Musk incursions at bay until Saffron was strong enough to revitalize them.

"Aside from that, the Phoenix didn't want a tyrant as a leader. The battle at Jusendo opened up the pure spring at their mountain home, and gave them a chance at a Lord who wasn't a jerk. All in all, the only loser in the whole thing was me in the end. They were pretty happy to help me out, all things considered."

Holding up his hands, the gray-haired teacher smiled apologetically. "We didn't know the details, but we'd heard that Saffron was beaten, from contacts in China. Things that severe tend to get around. Obviously, we didn't know it was you – and even if we had heard such a thing, it's not something you can just accept on word-of-mouth. I mean," shrugging Takahata gestured to the seated teen. "You're what? Seventeen? And, admittedly, you're sealed at the moment, but your ki doesn't really strike one as all that powerful."

At the man's frank and dismissive assessment, Ranma snorted in amusement. "I could take you with no ki, and with both hands behind my back. Don't judge a book by its cover."

"I may take you up on that challenge," Takahata replied quickly with a wry smile. "We are, after all, here to see what you can do."

"Anytime, old man."

Dean Konoe cleared his throat, an openly amused expression on his face. "Youthful bluster aside, I believe such a thing would be best handled after we finish hearing Ranma-san's tale. This is where things begin to get complicated, correct? At Jusendo?"

Wrinkling his nose in a decidedly feminine expression of annoyance, as if proving his curse, Ranma nodded. "Pretty much. The hot tap is used only by the Phoenix, to force their Lords into their ascended state. For lack of a better way to explain it... it did the same to me."

Gandolfini asked during a silence, "And I assume that those problems are something Goemon thought we could assist with? I understand he helped you to a degree already with his specialty in sealing and onmyōdō. You must have some complex issues if above and beyond Goemon's ability, you need more assistance."

Ranma grunted in an annoyed fashion. "That's what he claimed. He said that Jusendo's effect on me wasn't limited to ki, or something that just onmyōdō could solve."

"But that's not all, is it, Ranma-san?"

The martial artist shot the Dean a pointed look. "No," he admitted grudgingly. "I'm not, as he explained, magical by nature. I had no ability in it originally," Ranma pointed out. "But, constant exposure from dealing with my curse, the Pill, Jusendo... it all compounded." Ranma muttered with a scowl. "Now he claims that I've developed some potential for... _it_."

The Dean smiled wryly. "It? I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Magic," Ranma nearly spat, looking as if he'd tasted something foul. "Goemon said that the nature of it seems to have been affected by the curse and my use of the Soul of Ice as well. Apparently, I now have an affinity for ice and transformation magics. His suggestion was that I come here and find someone to instruct me... or seal that potential away. I would honestly prefer it to be sealed," he concluded. Ranma again ignored the mages' muttering at that. Maybe these people couldn't imagine sealing off their own magic, but he'd gained nothing positive from such things. There really was no question at his preference. "Since Goemon is an onmyōji and lacked any kind of ability in magic, he couldn't help with the that side of things. The reason I came here was because of his suggestion that his colleagues here may know of a way to... how did he put it... ah, regress me from what Jusendo did to me."

"Which brings us to the crux of the matter," Konoe noted with a small smile. "And yes, it does help explain much. I assume, since you had such well-developed ki already, that the Jusendo waters played havoc with you?"

Ranma snorted out a laugh. "You could say that. Oh, I have no problems _using_ it... controlling it all's the problem when unsealed."

Nodding slightly, the old man raised a brow. "Goemon passed on his estimate of your ki potential. I have to admit... I'm a bit skeptical."

"My ki is a result of my martial arts... or it was, before Jusendo. I understood it – it made sense. As I got better at the Art, my ki would follow as my skills required," Ranma explained. "Now," Shaking his head, the troubled martial artist sighed. "It's like... a car. Like a small car, with a big engine. It wants to get away from me every time I tap into it. Sealing myself is the only way to control it, but if that seal slips or fails... Those things I showed you before were easy even before Jusendo, but without the seal now I don't trust myself not to hurt myself or someone else.

"Goemon did teach me me the orders of magnitude, how onmyōji measure such things, but that never seemed very important," Ranma commented in an offhand manner. "Ki without martial discipline behind never sat right with me, but I leaned a few things, out of necessity from him."

Konoemon cleared his throat drawing the attention of those nearby. "Well then, I think it time we began."

–


	2. Chapter 2

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

–

Chapter Two

–

Ranma considered the man across from him in the arena, as the various mages prepared themselves to observe his performance. Somehow, the interview had turned into a sparring match... not that he really minded. All the talking had made him irritable and anxious to do something, and this would work just fine.

Still, it bothered him to have his weaknesses shown in such a way. Despite how excited Goemon got about his particular change thanks to Jusendo and what it brought with it, Ranma could think of it as nothing else. Another may have seen it as a blessing or even miracle, but to the magic-maligned young man, it was just another bump in an already rocky road. The only difference being now he too understood Ryoga's opinion of his change, though for totally different reasons.

Ranma tried hard to push his emotions to the side, only succeeding in part. Already impatient from having to recant his abbreviated history for an audience, then having every unusual point questioned, Ranma felt his control slipping through his fingers, despite years of rigid discipline and training. All he wanted was some help – was every person in the world who had some background in magic like Ku Lon? Was he going to be stuck dealing with secretive, demanding, enigmatic assholes till he managed to shove magic out of his life entirely? Superficially, he knew the imbalance he was feeling was due to his disorganized ki running rampant and constrained from the change and then the seal. Both were pushing him to extremes he'd much rather do without. Snippets of memory, recollections of Ryoga's mind falling further into his depression from using his Shishi Hōkōdan slithered through his thoughts as he prepared for the upcoming fight. Ever since Jusendo, he'd needed the Soul of Ice just to keep from lashing out, falling into small fits of depression, or going manic due to that lack of equilibrium within his energies.

Of course, that too had its dangers, which now he knew all too well. Each time he sank into the Soul, it affected his curse and what other magics lingered within him. It was not something he could do idly, anymore. Not unless he wanted to bathe in boiling water to counter the change one day.

He bit back a curse as his eyes lingered on the far-too attentive mages, waiting and sitting like judges. Didn't the old man send them enough information in his letter already? This shouldn't be such a damn chore. And why were they so focused on his ki potential? Of course he knew the hierarchy – how else could he make seals, to suppress his ki? It wasn't like he could sleep with the _mala_ on!

Nine Spheres, each one having a set number of circles dividing up the power it represented. Nine circles for the first Sphere, eight for the second, seven for the third and so on, up to the pinnacle, where the ninth Sphere was itself its own full measure.

Each Sphere in the scale represented a magnitude of power, built around a system of measurement that Goemon never fully explained. It just was, as he said. The first Sphere was where most people in the world sat, having only the ki needed to keep their bodies running. A normal martial artist – by non-Nerimian definition – may have enough power to be a first Sphere, ninth circle, but rarely did one pass that point.

Lifetime practitioners or as he learned, some ki-adepts like Goemon, managed to get to the second Sphere. There, one learned how to refine ki into their bodies, gaining strength, speed, and endurance far above human norms. Onmyōji could scribe wards, do the most common incantations, and possibly summon spirits if their will and potential were high enough.

Ranma in his lifetime, had reached the beginnings of the third Sphere – hallmarked by the ability to project ki outside the body. That in itself was rare, as Goemon explained, few had the dedication or potential to reach that point. It was also the point most humans topped out at. Genma would be perhaps one circle above where Ranma had been, and Happosai easily nearly completing the Sphere. Goemon himself was a third Sphere, easily rivaling Happosai in power. For an onmyōji, such a potential for ki allowed for complex wards and protections – something Ranma painfully learned by experience – the forming of contracts between powerful servant-spirits, and powerful incantations and mantras that could both help and harm.

Those with inhuman blood or influence could break that ceiling, of course. Herb, who had masterful control of his ki and the ki around him, could fly and cycle the ambient life-force from his nearby environment to various effects. Saffron was another example, being the conduit for vast amounts of ki for his people, channeling the power of a volcano into them, granting abilities beyond physics and physiology. And now, thanks to Jusendo, Ranma was counted among that number. With the _mala_ beads in place as Ranma tended to wear them, he could for very short periods draw up the level of ki he had before Jusendo, though it would leave him weaker for the effort of concentrating it for a short time to get that potential. For the most part, the seal locked away only his vast reservoir of ki, leaving his focus and control untouched. The downside being that the seal was unstable at lower bindings – either Ranma locked away almost all of his potential, leaving him little better than a first-Sphere beginner under Goemon's scale, or he locked none and paid the price.

"Ready?"

The teacher's prompt snapped Ranma's attention to fore, and the pigtailed young man nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a moment.

And then, the world was a blur of motion. Ranma didn't know what to expect of Takahata, and that made the man dangerous. Such a thing kept him on a hair-trigger, which was the only reason he was able to avoid the sudden attack. Only his training in the Chestnut Fist, years of challenges from high-level martial artist, and constantly dealing with the Joketsuzoku kept him from being literally blown off his feet by the incoming waves of pressure unleashed by the graying teacher.

Lunging to the side, Ranma dodged another wave, as for all appearances the suited man stayed perfectly still and smiling slightly, hands in his pockets. He stifled the voice in the back of his mind that told him that he looked the fool, dodging invisible blows and strikes like a mad pinball, but had to admit, this wasn't an ideal situation. He hated being on the defensive.

He wouldn't have to be for long though. Over a decade of almost nothing but fighting, learning, adapting, and overcoming foes left Ranma's mind near the pinnacle of combat analytics. "Slight chambering delay," he noted conversationally, spinning in place before dropping into a crouch. "Left hand is slower, has less power. Expected." Ranma kicked a leg out into a high roundhouse that seemed to have no purpose, as he was still some distance from the teacher. The motion set up a series of tumbles and spins that gradually let him close the distance, while dodging. As he did so, he continued, "Straight-line attacks, predictable paths."

His clothes, however, paid the price for the near-hits Ranma was managing to avoid though an impressive display of acrobatics. It wasn't just a lot of jumping around however – anyone could bounce around aimlessly in a panic. He was weaving the minimum distance to avoid blows, while maintaining his balance to set up the next motion, and the ones after it. Fighting was much like a dance, he'd heard said long ago by one of a nearly endless train of masters and teachers. No single movement can be done, without another following. The true Artist never stops moving, never stops fighting. After the first motion, they discard blocks, dodges, counterattacks, offense or defense – they become motion, with intent.

He ignored the looks of surprise and interest on the mage's faces at his casual display of grace and ability, as that mindset came to the fore and he made the teacher's efforts to strike him an exercise in futility. A common error most people that knew Ranma casually made was that he was unintelligent. This would be incorrect, in the same way as stating sharks were unskilled. Sharks were very skilled at what they did – killing and eating. In the same way, Ranma was massively specialized.

It was true that Ranma could be considered grossly ignorant due to that overspecialization – he was born, raised, conditioned, and finally honed to be a fighting machine. His mind was geared for very few things, but those things he did with a laser focus and intensity that would shame most supposed academics, if placed on equal terms. Takahata was learning this, much to his annoyance, as the pigtailed martial artist dissected his form, technique, and ability, all while managing to dodge every iaiken strike he made.

That on its own was impressive, as the strikes were almost invisible to the eye, which the shockwaves were, but to dodge them all? It should be impossible. Ranma cleared that up with his next words, closing the distance that remained and putting himself inside of the teacher's 'dead zone'. "You telegraph. Not much, but your feet give you away," Ranma risked a leaping flip, somehow dodging even in midair a pair of iaiken strikes that again shouldn't have been possible.

"Your eyes too. Most people who use range attacks aim, and aiming takes focus and concentration," Ranma continued, closing within Takahata's two-meter zone. "How are you at close-quarters?"

Within a minute, Takahata was cursing every martial arts teacher he'd ever had, and with more venom, those Ranma had learned under. True, he was holding back quite a lot, using iaiken in a 'blunt' fashion so as not endanger the young man, but that decision was quickly losing the veneer of nobility it had five minutes ago. Moreso now, as he was forced to deal with the young man pulling his own tricks against him. It boggled the mind how the kid could be so fast and precise despite his apparent youth. Only his own training in iaiken had leveled the field when dealing with the Ranma's blurred attacks, letting him dodge and block as he could. So far, they were in a pretty solid stalemate, with neither being able to land a decisive blow against the other.

Ranma was impressed, if not precisely pleased. The man he'd been sparring with was good – very good. He was also holding back, and if the trend continued, this would be about as gratifying and productive as Akane's usual method of showing her prowess – smashing inanimate objects.

As if sensing the martial artist's mood, Takahata blurred into motion, gaining distance. "I think we've seen enough to ascertain that you're a skilled hand-to-hand fighter," the teacher noted, regaining his equilibrium and breath. "But this was geared to gauge not just skill but potential. We will need to see you fight without the seal."

Narrowing his eyes, Ranma really couldn't argue the point. However, this proved a potential problem. "I'll unseal one loop of the _mala_-"

"We need to see you completely unsealed," the teacher interrupted firmly, earning a glare from the pigtailed youth.

Rather than respond immediately, Ranma unlooped a single strand of the beads around his hand. "One now. We'll discuss the rest if you're able in a minute," he growled, relishing the flood of ki that washed through his body. Ki-starved muscles, bone, and blood soaked up the force with a vengeance, as Ranma adjusted his mental gears slightly. Rather than letting the ki just sit there, he'd learned quickly from Goemon to make it more efficient. Ki was the energy of life in motion, and it worked best and was used best in such ways, which was why as a martial artist it had come so naturally to him. Now that he had more than his body technically required, the martial artist began to subconsciously focus it into cycling through his chakras, an exercise of onmyōdō that Goemon had taught him to maximize his use of what was released, in the event he needed it.

There was still bleed-off, as his audience was witness to. The sudden increase in power had little outward effect on Ranma other than seemingly revitalizing him instantly, but there was a small burst of air displacement, as the ki he couldn't contain whipped outward from the initial release. Dust swept out in a small nova along the ground, as Ranma's clothing fluttered lightly. With a cocky smirk, the young man snapped into a stance, "Round two."

Takahata blinked, as he was bent double around a fist that had materialized mid-thrust into his gut, before physics took hold and he rocketed away from the impact, coughing madly. Sucker-punch aside, the teacher was pleased – this would break that stalemate nicely.

The next exchange was too fast for most of the observers to follow, though the two Shinmei-ryū practitioners watched wide-eyed. They would later sum it up as, "Ranma can punch _really_ fast, and Takahata-sensei hides some _really_ nice muscles under those suits."

Clothing now resembling the young man's tattered remnants, the graying teacher frowned as his punch landed as planned, but had little effect other than altering Ranma's balance slightly, not that the young man seemed to notice. The kick he'd anticipated to sweep out at his side never materialized, and instead Takahata was sent tumbling again as a backfist that came from nowhere took him in the jaw. Mid-spin as he was sent away, he launched a pair of iaiken strikes, one catching Ranma by surprise and bloodying his nose.

"First blood to me," the teacher smirked, only to lose that expression as he was pounded literally into a crater of his own making, as Ranma continued unphased. After pulling himself back to his feet, Takahata checked to make sure the boy wasn't losing control, only to see determination and focus in a pair of dangerously glinting blue eyes. Losing all desire to keep the kid gloves on, his iaiken were no longer blunted, taking on a less straining edged nature more natural to the technique.

If Ranma noticed the increase in his opponent's risk, he didn't show it, responding to the new flurry of attacks in stride. The pigtailed youth schooled his expression, as he pulled a punch meant for Takahata's gut, taking the bladed pressure strike to the shoulder.

It was a snapshot moment. The material over Ranma's shoulder was shredded, and a small spray of blood misted into the air. Takahata yelled out in pain and surprise as a concentrated ball of ki was jammed into his stomach, detonating with the force of a small bomb.

Gripping his shoulder and cycling ki there to accelerate his healing, Ranma winced and looked at the smoking and glaring form of Takahata as he stalked forward. "Tough one, ain't ya," he muttered, falling back into speech patterns that Hinako had mostly beaten – rather, drained – out of him.

Feeling a mutual desire to take things to another level, the two squared off again, before Ranma cursed and held up a hand. "This is as far as I go for a spar. If I drop the seal below this, I need target dummies or something," he offered, not really wanting to stop but knowing that unlike his usual opponents, he didn't know Takahata's measure, or what he could take before getting hurt. Ranma continued by pulling a thermos from behind his back, making some of the onlookers blink in confusion at where the thing had been up till that point. "I need to change beyond this point, so go ahead and get those."

One dose of cool water later, and a somewhat shorter redhead stretched, pushing the limits of her mangled clothing to the point of indecency. Not that she much noticed. Bouncing on the balls of her feet however provoked a more obvious reaction, and she did manage to note the rather vapid looks some of the males had acquired that time. "Oi! Stupid old perverts," she muttered, before swapping out the thermos for a jacket with some interesting modifications. For one, it looked to be backless. Two, it had rather long sleeves, that draped almost like a kimono's. Three, the shoulders came up to a collar, that seemed to have a small button and buckle, to keep the garment in place. After securing the odd garment, she stretched and took on a thoughtful posture. "So, are we going to do this? Got any training dummies or targets?"

The Dean frowned slightly, sparing a glance to an equally frowning Takahata. "I assure you, Takahata-sensei would be more than willing to assist in further gauging your abilities."

Ranma shook her head. "Past this," she indicated her partially unwound _mala_, "my control goes to hell till it levels off at a point that I'm not comfortable working with. Definitely not comfortable with a living opponent that I don't wanna potentially kill. If you want to see it, I need some targets. That isn't an option."

Takahata mulled over that, before shrugging noncommittally. "Too bad. You want our help – you have to play by our rules in some things. This is number one on the list. So get ready, or admit this is the best you have and that you're too afraid to go on."

Her eyes narrowing, Ranma merely kept eye contact with the gray-haired man while gripping her _mala_. After a long moment, she straightened her demeanor changing completely, becoming blandly formal. "Then I think our business is done here," she stated flatly. "I'm not here to entertain a bunch of self-important old bastards that won't listen to a word I say."

Again, the teacher spoke, his irritatingly slight smile still in place. "Oh? I thought it was forbidden for any practitioner of the Musabetsu Kakutō Ryū to refuse a challenge?" To punctuate his statement, Takahata maneuvered himself between Ranma and the exit, simultaneously using iaiken to force the now-female martial artist into a defensive posture.

"You really don't wanna push me right now, asshole," the redhead hissed, flipping backwards over the all-but invisible strikes, demonstrating she too had a ranged arsenal as a she increased her counterattack to drive the graying teacher away from the door. A small flurry of ki orbs forced him to dodge, but instead of simply sliding to the side, Takahata advanced on the increasingly harried Ranma.

Playing his part, Takahata shrugged, advancing again. "What do I care for the opinion of someone who has no honor? Unseal your ki. You're not leaving this place until you do." Iaiken was chained into a instant-step advance, the first dodged, the second not.

Takahata had a moment to think that perhaps he'd gone to far, as he mirrored the redhead's earlier attack, burying his hand in her stomach from the speed and suddenness of his advance. A fraction of a second later his sense of self-preservation screamed at him to _move_, and he attempted to do so – only to note something very wrong. Ranma had pinned his forward foot, under her own. He'd matched Ranma's attack, the teacher thought... but she hadn't moved. _He hadn't seen her move, he was sure._ Surely the difference in force and mass would have caused... _When did she counter him?_ A glance at glacial blue eyes was his only warning, as the dots connected.

He hadn't made contact with her stomach – only a hand, whose palm had absorbed the power of his strike while the redhead had turned her body around the deflection. No, he realized with sudden clarity, not deflection, _redirection_-!

Ranma showed no emotion as she let the impact of Takahata's strike ripple through her, along her bones, through her muscles. She gathered that momentum, added ki, swiveled, and like a Newton's Cradle, let her other hand hammer the strike back at the man, catching him in the jaw with a sickening crack.

"Why is it," the redhead began almost conversationally, "that every time I deal with some dried-up old bastard, they end up lying to me? Hmm?" She ignored the indignant noises the mages made around their Dean, while pacing slightly around the room. Takahata was staring up at the ceiling where he'd been thrown, a non-threat at this point as he cradled his jaw in a hand reeling. She dismissed the threat he posed – after the last comment, she'd decided not to play nice anymore.

Shooting a glare at the old man as he moved with his small entourage to the fallen teacher's side, she cocked her head slightly. "Still going to keep me here against my will?"

Konoemon nodded gravely, signaling for the two kenshi to move forward. "I'm afraid you've forced my hand in this, Saotome-san."

Instead of anger, Ranma barked a short laugh. "Just like I'd expect from a lot of magic users. Good. Let me guess," she asked, leaning forward slightly as if conveying her curiosity through posture alone. "You're going to draw live steel on me, right?"

The elder of the two Shinmei-ryū swordswomen, Tōko Kuzunoha, responded by drawing her oversized katana, a grim expression on her face. Beside her, the younger girl looked hesitant, biting her lip.

Ranma seemed to only grow slightly manic at this. "And people wonder why _I hate magic_," she quipped, her voice changing to something laced with enough venom to cause the younger kenshi to take a step back from the sheer hatred she was giving off.

While Shizuna inspected Takahata's injury, Konoemon questioned his operations director. "Tōko-san, what can you tell me?"

"Her aura's been spiking since she started unwinding her _mala_," the oldest of the swordswomen stated. "Her emotions were mostly level, even calm during the fight. However, once she started becoming defensive of her seal and wanting to leave, it changed. I can only suspect his.. _her_ ki to be acting as an amplifier. Now she's almost eager... and I don't want Setsuna-chan involved," she concluded finally, getting a sharp glare from the admittedly intimidated girl. Tōko stared back at her would-be opponent, who seemed amused by her conversation and willing to wait. "Saotome is responding to us as a personal threat – this is no longer a sparring session. I will not let a student stand against her."

Watching the incensed girl as she smiled in a decidedly feral way, Konoemon Konoe couldn't quite dismiss the feeling he'd made a poor choice, taking the route he had. As an academic, he'd always been in the pursuit of knowledge both new and obscure – it was simply his nature to do so. It was why he chose the path he did, becoming a mage himself, and what lead him to where he was, the Dean of a large and varied campus. As chief of the Kantō Magic Association, his ability to study and research magic was even greater. Truly, his life had been spent in the pursuit of knowledge.

And so, being sent an enigma like Ranma was something he simply couldn't ignore. He admitted that, yes, Goemon's letter had been quite detailed about a number of things. One of the most strident being a warning not to challenge Ranma unsealed, or deceive her – two things he'd already accomplished in short order.

It irked Konoemon that his old colleague knew him well enough to bait a trap that well. Yes, they did honestly need to asses Ranma's abilities, so as to properly place the youth within the potential of the Association. That was never a question – all resources, even unwitting ones, were tapped in the complex game that made up the balance of power between regional factions. The extent of Ranma's ability did not, however, need to be observed outside of his own curiosity. Like Tatsumiya and Sakurazaki she could fill in roles that allowed observation even within the constraints of a school-girl's day. Or, if she proved much more capable as Goemon believed, she could fill a role of that much like that of Takahata. In such a case, Ranma could be utilized as a free agent, able to act in a mostly independent fashion as need dictated.

Hearing a groan from his subordinate, the Dean looked back to where Minamoto was tending to the injured Takahata. He regretted now pushing the teacher into acting as he had, knowing it was against his own warnings and wishes. It was true the man wanted, after reading Goemon's shining endorsement, to challenge Ranma, but he imagined this was far from what he'd had in mind. It was part of the Dean's plan however to draw out and observe the youth, and the teacher was obligated to assist. Ranma's reactions however were proving that the warnings were rightfully given.

This, however... He was beginning to suspect Ranma was sent to him by his former colleague as an object lesson, in much the same way Pandora's Box had been.

Sadly, however, he missed the opportunity to end the hostilities peacefully. Sensing a break in Ranma's concentration, Kuzunoha darted in toward the young woman, following a cry of "Zankūsen!"

Ranma narrowed her eyes at the attack, noting she had another opponent that fought with techniques she wasn't familiar with. Avoiding the circular wave of edged ki proved impossible at the distance she was at, and so the redhead braced and did what she could to buffer herself with ki.

To Tōko's mild shock, her air-cutter had no effect on Ranma's jacket, though it did score her exposed skin with some few cuts. Within range now since the younger woman had focused on defending against her attack, the Shinmei-ryū swordswoman adjusted her blade for a backhand strike. Before Ranma could disengage, Tōko's blade flashed brilliantly, and began a quick descent.

The kenshi's sword passed harmlessly through the young redhead, though even with her drastically small defensive window, Ranma had avoided all but the very tip of the blade. It would have cut a shallow gash across her chest had it been anything but a demon-sealing strike, something the swordswoman had taken a chance on, feeling the anger and hatred rolling off the girl. Tōko stared at Ranma, as the girl glared back at her unharmed and undeterred from her last attack, the _mala_ on her wrist clinking ominously to her ears.

Ranma took the initiative on the next exchange, blurring into motion and punishing the kenshi for her previous efforts. Though Tōko was no slouch, Ranma in her female form was faster, and got within her guard with little effort, her palm flat against the older woman's sternum. Almost conversationally and with a small wicked smile, she announced "Tōboe Asura Shushō", as her ki spiked and flared.

Tōko screamed as Ranma's Howling Asura Palm roared against her, the stifling miasma of hate and anger that powered the attack almost causing the woman to choke. Her stance broken, she nonetheless managed to force herself into a hilt strike to the girl's jaw, followed by a sweeping kick that was half attack, half attempt to gain distance by using the momentum to spring backward. While Ranma was reeling, Kuzunoha gathered herself and moved to attack the point that she felt would end all the strife, and put this silly conflict to an end.

Her first strike was dodged, but the second was caught, impossibly held in place against the target she'd set – Ranma's _mala_. Stretching the beaded strand between the fingers of her left hand, Ranma regarded the shocked kenshi with a dire scowl. "You... are you _stupid?_ Hasn't anyone been listening to me?

"I don't want to hurt anyone," the redhead snarled, dropping her stance and backing away a step, as Kuzunoha moved to defend the group, a feeling of dread washing over her. "I don't know why you people won't listen. Is it magic? Is that why you're so dumb?"

Before anyone could respond, and Gandoflini looked ready to do so with a spell if his grip on his cane were any indication, she continued. "Hell, I'm sure Goemon warned you in his letter – that idiot met me unsealed," holding up her left hand, Ranma shook the _mala_ at the gathered mages. "Don't you get it? _I'm trying to protect you._ Do you see this? One-hundred and eight seals. Carved into jade, then inked in oni blood – an oni I had to subdue, then get the blood from willingly! Do you have any idea how hard that is?" Cursing soundly, Ranma reached under her jacket, ripping the mangled shreds of her shirt off from under it. "And you still want me to go all out. Fine. Fine! I'll try not to kill anyone, but I'm leaving, _now_. So either stand aside, or I'll walk over you once I'm done!"

Stepping forward, Konoemon held up a placating hand to the young woman. "Saotome-san, please... I apologize. It wasn't my intent to cause this much strife, and obviously I let my curiosity get the best of me. Let us end this, peacefully."

"Actually," Gandolfini muttered, stepping to the side and rapping his cane on the floor. "I'd rather put this insolent little brat in her place."

"Gandolfini-"

"Dean, she's insulted us once too many times with her disrespect," the man in the suit stated, moving forward enough so that his darker, almost Mediterranean skin could be clearly seen.

He was pulled back in line by a scowling Takamichi Takahata. "Stand down, you pompous idiot," the graying teacher muttered through clenched teeth. Though his jaw was still aching from the vicious blow he'd taken, the English teacher easily stared down his disgruntled colleague. Rubbing at the bruise that was likely already forming, the bespectacled man spared the irate redhead a genuine grin. "Lets finish our spar, Ranma-san. Then we can talk about this and apologize appropriately for the misunderstanding."

Despite her emotions working havoc on her ki, Ranma forced herself to calm, taking a number of deep breaths. "I'd like that. I don't like to fight, but I will if you push me," she muttered. There was a pause, before she let her lip curl in a sickly grin. "Still, you guys should be careful what you ask for.

"You just might get it," she concluded, letting her hands fall apart from where they'd been clasped. Takahata noticed the beads hanging from the girl's right hand, before looking pointedly where the _mala_ had been.

Absent. "Damn," he muttered, sparing no time in activating his kankahō.

Ranma, regardless of the spike in the man's ki, looked nonplussed. Shrugging once, she muttered a single word infused with ki, holding the hand bearing the mala before her.

"_**Break**_."

The string of one-hundred and eight seals briefly circled the redhead, before settling around her neck in a long strand, the long loop draping itself between her breasts. With a smirked comment of "pervert oni," she sighed, feeling her ki pulse. It was nearly electric, surging through her chakras, leaving her panting and shaking for a moment. The sensation was, she recalled again after being sealed for so long, very much like sex.

That of course brought other things to mind, "Funny thing about oni... each one of them's got a new and interesting blood-borne ability," she noted, as the necklace clinked with Ranma's shivering. "Some are just stupid. Drinking as much as they want and never getting drunk. Turning into vegetables. Being orange."

Laughing quietly, the gender-shifted martial artist heaved a sigh. "Then, you get the really interesting ones. Power over density. The ability to defeat any foe in three steps," Ranma seemed to get a far-off look for just a moment, before snapping herself back to the present as a tremor shook her. "Those are _fun_ to spar with. The one I convinced to help me make this," Ranma indicated her changed _mala_, "could change her form into anything. _Anything_. Somewhat perverse now and again – but generally damn useful. To a degree, her blood carried her power slightly. Personality too. I borrowed some from her sisters to finish the seals, eventually."

Gazing fondly down at the remade _mala_, Ranma grinned. "But you don't really wanna hear about that," she mused and laughed again, before trembling fiercely. A low keen choked its way from her throat. "Awe, fuck," she gasped, falling to a knee. Shivering hard, Ranma grit her teeth before grabbing a length of her ripped shirt where it had fallen on the ground. Winding it into a knot, she promptly bit down on said bundle of silk, as another tremor rippled through her body.

Takamichi Takahata stared at the spectacle for a long moment, regretting his part in the partial farce. Sure, he wanted to test the boy – what martial artist didn't like testing their limits and abilities, or seeing those like them do the same? Still, he wasn't comfortable with pushing the youth so much. It was part of Konoemon's plan however, and he was obligated to assist. With the Dean's agreement to stop the act they'd been pressing her with, Takahata had offered the girl a chance to not only vent her aggression, but to get some satisfaction for the deception against her. He'd hoped that it would be enough to make amends, but this... "Is she alright? This..."

"The _mala_ is no longer active," Tōko stated, adjusting her glasses with a frown. "I see now that the oni influence caused my earlier error, but this..."

"What?"

She regarded the bruised man with a worried glance. "That kind of seal, backed up by oni blood is... powerful."

Ranma's actions drew their attention again, as she fell to her hands and knees, muffled screaming making its way around the make-shift gag she'd crafted for herself. Rearing back suddenly, she stunned her audience by slamming her head into the ground with a resounding crack. Takahata and Shizuna both moved a half step forward to assist or stop the young woman before the redhead repeated the motion, only this time there was more than self-inflicted violence in the act.

A wave of pressure washed out from the still-screaming figure, sending the dust along the floor to blast away in a sudden upheaval of wind currents. Fingers alternately gripping and clawing at the rocky floor, Ranma slammed her head into the rock again, cracking a flagstone as a faintly luminous silvery aura sprang into being around her form. Like disturbed water, the ghostlight of her unrestrained ki wavered and flowed, never still, never settling. Like liquid fire, it lapped and coiled around and in on itself restlessly, outlining its bearer in faint luminescence.

And then, Ranma's screams died off, as last of her changes literally ripped themselves from her back in a cascading display of horrifying clarity. Two great spikes of bone speared outward from her shoulders, glistening wetly with blood and viscera. Those bones grew up and out, cracking hollowly as joints were forced into the spines, then flexed and bowed as the redhead curled in on herself in a shuddering ball, back exposed to the open air as the gruesome display continued.

Muscle and sinew followed in the same violent fashion, accelerating as the luminescence around Ranma began pulsing in time with her heartbeat, affecting a nearly strobe-like frequency. Viscera now enshrouding the bones, skin followed, and almost immediately as it did so, feathers concluded the strange display. White and snowy, they formed a stark contrast to the terrible event that had preceded them, though those closest to the redhead's shoulders carried the residual stain from contact with her bloody skin.

Into the sudden silence, Ranma's ragged breathing could be heard evening out into something more normal, though the occasional shudder was still heard. Tentatively, those new appendages flexed and flared, showing themselves to bear a distinct resemblance to a falcon's in shape. Sharply angled, they tapered in the distinct way that most wings built for faster flight did, rather than a broader surface meant for gliding. With a final deep breath, Ranma pushed herself back onto her feet, her wings settling back, tucked tightly behind her. Wavering a moment, she gathered her equilibrium with a final sigh.

Blue eyes whose irises seemed to flow now with a liquid silver snapped open and stared back at the gathered mages implacably, until she sighted Takahata.

"Oh, hell-" He barely had time to tap into the kankahō – a joining of ki and magic – before the vengeful image of an angel was upon him. Halfway across the arena her literally flying tackle ended when a shaft of silver light slammed the man into the ground hard enough to throw him back in the air from the recoil, only to be kicked into a wall. Through a blur of crushing blows and blasts of ki that excavated hundreds of pounds of rock from the arena with each impact, Ranma could be heard laughing merrily.

Konoemon swore as he shouted out directions, before activating the arena's stasis ward. If nothing else, it would prevent the vast room from collapsing inward from damage, if things went badly for them. Seeing that his precaution had taken effect, the Dean lead his fellows into a spell of suppression that should dampen the power of those caught within. With any luck, it would cause a stop to the ongoing and vastly more destructive fight, and if not, give one of the mages an opening to subdue the strange young woman before Ranma did something she would likely regret.

He suppressed a sigh, considering his choices regarding Ranma. Hopefully, one day he would learn that curiosity could very well kill the cat – and the occasional English teacher, if not handled with care.

–

"So, that's why you did it," Ranma commented, scratching at the bandaid across her cheek with a finger idly.

Konoemon nodded, leaving his head in a slight bow at the end. "I offer my sincerest apologies for my rudeness, and my hope that we can continue an association on civil terms," the old man stated formally, making Ranma twitch in her seat.

Being the subject of such attention was disturbing to the young woman, and as such, she waved it off with a nervous laugh, "Really, no problem. Just uh... well just talk to me next time. Be direct. I get that better and well, respond better I guess," she admitted, reaching up to rub at the base of her braid idly.

Nodding his agreement with such an idea, the Dean continued, "It was not one of my most... intelligent moments. The Kantō Magic Association is a mostly Western-styled cooperative, and any opportunity so see a ki-adept at work – especially one that a master in the field such a Goemon endorses – is a rare and interesting event. I'm afraid I let my exuberance outpace my good sense."

Ranma shrugged off most of the explanation, taking the relevant bits in before frowning. "So... what you guys did. That was magic? It felt right, but I've not seen anything like that before."

"The incantations and spells you heard and saw were of that kind, yes. Western magic, to be precise."

"Huh," Ranma mused, nodding distantly. Her memories of the fight were for the most part washed out from the resonance of her ki interfering with her mind. Every emotion had become so intense they temporarily took control, driving her along before them. It was the ultimate reason she disliked being unsealed – that lack of self-control and discipline. Everything about it was counter to the Art, and if there was one thing Ranma couldn't tolerate, it was losing the Art, no matter what the reason. It got easier to deal with and adjust to the longer she allowed herself unsealed, which was good, but... outside of the Phoenix, there wasn't any place she could do so, unless she wanted to take Goemon's path and become a hermit. Bird-people weren't the sort of thing one overlooked in the modern world.

The irony that she had become so much like the person that had driven her to kill for the first time, at least in body, wasn't lost on the pigtailed martial artist. It served as a bitter reminder not to let her control slip like it had the first time, leading to her injuring Kiima, or when she initially met Goemon. Or, she admitted with a sigh, just a small while ago with Takahata. The seal wasn't an idle thing that she removed just at any point she liked, like flipping a switch. It was her boundary, a border, between what she thought of as herself, and the idea that she feared, becoming like Saffron.

Returning her attention to the conversation, Ranma frowned. "Western huh? So, that means there's an Eastern?"

The Dean chuckled lightly. "Indeed, though I'm surprised Goemon didn't work harder to turn you to his own ways. What he practices, from my last information from him, would be considered Eastern magic."

Ranma immediately balked at the connection. "But he uses ki, not magic."

"True," the old man agreed. "However, how many ways can one describe the impossible?" He saw that the girl shifted uncomfortably, admitting the point, if grudgingly. "The two active Associations – Kantō and Kansai – are separated by such labels. We prefer to take a Western approach, embracing the new and varied, while they prefer the traditional ways, rooted in practice and familiarity."

At that, the redhead frowned. "But you have those two God's-cry kenshi, and Takahata. They're not magic users."

"A good tactician understand the strengths of his enemy, to better turn them into weaknesses," the Dean noted, before realizing perhaps that wasn't the best way to word things.

Ranma, however, took his mistake and ran with it in a marathon fashion. "You guys do know a lot of combat spells," she mused, digesting what had been and had not been said. "Takahata's too good to not practice, and you don't learn the kinds of things he did on your own. I recognize that style, if not his version. The sheathed-blade draw I mean." Leaning back in her chair, the redhead tapped her chin, as her beads clinked from some unknown motion or settling. "Oh, right, the kenshi too. You have quite a lot of fighters on the payroll, around here. Would you and these Kansai people happen to have some kind of disagreement going on?"

Her question was asked with enough fake sweetness that the Dean could do nothing but wince in response. With a heavy sigh, the man nodded, "Yes. Our Associations are often at odds, though openly nothing happens."

"Right, just like openly I had a peaceful life," Ranma sniped back, her tone, posture, and expression saying enough that she fully understood the truth behind things. "And that's why you wanted to evaluate me. You want me to work for you, in exchange for what you can do for me."

Konoemon nodded. "Indeed. As the Dean of Mahora, and the chief of the KMA – Kantō Magic Association – there are only so many ways I can utilize your talents. You cannot teach, though I'm sure if we had a martial arts class rather than a club you could be an asset. You haven't been formally trained as an Eastern or Western mage, and despite Goemon's teachings, you are less than an apprentice in the art of onmyōdō, he insists-"

"I didn't have a lot of time, and he would only teach me so much," an irritated Ranma interrupted. She left out the fact that the man was nearly as bad as Happosai, wanting to trade 'favors' for information. What she'd dragged out of the old pervert were the things she could without compromising herself. One old letch in her life was already more than enough, thank-you-very-much.

At the quiet cough by her shoulder, the redhead turned to see the blonde woman from earlier, who had lead the way to the Dean's office. "Ah... Minamoto-san? Did you need something?"

Shaking her head, the woman let a gentle hand rest on Ranma's shoulder. "No, Saotome-san. I was just wondering if you needed anything. Some of..." her eyes trailed unconsciously to the redhead's wings, before snapping back to her face. "Ah, I was concerned you needed something for pain."

"So you're kinda like a nurse?"

Shizuna laughed quietly. "Oh no, not at all. I'm an advisor of sorts. Think of me as a teacher's teacher," she explained, kneeling down beside the young woman's chair. "I offer advice and guidance to those teaching at Mahora, since it can be a vastly different place than some are expecting." Grinning slightly, she shrugged. "I just dislike seeing people hurt. I try to help where I can."

Reminded faintly of Kasumi, Ranma smiled tentatively back at the woman. "I... I see. Um, well..." flexing her wings slightly, since she had yet to reseal herself, Ranma considered what to tell. "When they're sealed for a long while, it hurts a lot when they come back the first time.

"Learning under Goemon, he explained that the body remembers how it uses ki, but that it's like a muscle. The more you use it, the better you can use it," the young martial artist explained in a half-lecturing tone. "It's like breaking a leg. Being off of it for a long while, you have to get used to it again, and it hurts till you've gotten it back into shape. If I stay sealed for a long time, my body and ki forget how my wings work, and rather than the easy way, I get the hard way, when they come back."

Konoemon focused on that, looking thoughtful. "Easy way?"

Fidgeting in place, Ranma shrugged. "If I've been unsealed a while, and it hasn't been too long, I can recall them without all that... well that," she uncomfortably explained. "They just show up."

Eyes narrowing in thought, the Dean smoothed his mustache. "Fascinating. And you're quite balanced now?"

"Not quite, but close," Ranma agreed. "Same applies to my unsealed ki. For the first little bit, the flood is just impossible to deal with. Once that surge has passed, I'm fine. I just end up with these," she jerked her thumb back over her shoulder, wings shifting slightly.

After that, the discussion in the Dean's office became somewhat less interesting, as the various mages spoke amongst themselves. Most seemed wary if accepting of Ranma, though few had anything really useful to say that she could understand. Most talk spoke of some sealed world, and a place called Ostia. Rather than be talked about in the middle of a room and subtly eavesdrop, Ranma worked on her ki exercises, building more complicated and vast networks in her mind's-eye to cycle her natural energies through. She imagined them like blood vessels, though more aesthetic – like those tattoos she saw out in Shibuya once. Tribal she recalled, faintly, from her meditative state. She had hopes that in time, she could subconsciously focus on the patterning and flow enough that the balancing influence of her wings weren't needed... not that she fully understood what Goemon meant when he explained that. Supposedly, they were something of a subconscious focus, a way for her mind and body to express the potential for her ki in a way that let her essentially equalize the pressure between what she could focus, and what she was able to produce.

Her hand strayed to the jade _mala_, smiling faintly at the warm reassurance it offered. She didn't need it at the moment, of course. While her wings were free, her control became increasingly more even – the problem with the situation was the fact _she had wings_. The only way to possibly go around in public while avoiding a panic would be to seal her own ki as she had done, causing them to destabilize and disappear, while taking her now-massive reserves with them.

After about an hour of discussion, the other mages and Shizuna left, leaving Ranma alone in the Dean's office with only Konoe present. During a long silence while the older man sipped his tea, the Dean addressed the purpose of her visit finally. "Hmm... the difficulty in your case, Saotome-san, is that we currently have no solid information on what to do about your change or curse. They simply are undocumented and unresearched phenomenon. To do anything hastily could have more of a harmful effect than your Soul of Ice, or another bath in the hot tap you described."

Ranma flinched at that idea, having no desire at all to see what her next 'ascension' would be. "I see. So there isn't anything you can do."

"That I did not say," Konoe countered. "It will take time, but I'm sure we can find something that would help you. The most important thing to discover, however, is _how_. What is it you truly want? To cure your Jusenkyo curse, which would potentially lock you into a male form, forever removing the potential you show as you are now. Discovering some way to reverse the effects of Jusendo. More control over your ki, a more convenient trigger... there are many options.

"Though, there is something else to think on as well. It is true that we at Mahora and Kantō practice primarily Western styles. As Goemon stated, you have some talent now for magic-" he raised a brow as the girl faintly vibrated and growled in anger. Coughing into his fist, the old man continued, "...We can of course offer some tutoring, in that area. However, in regard to your ki abilities... Takahata would be your best resource," the Dean admitted, folding his hands before him. "Though we employ some ki-adepts and martial artists – some very promising students attend as well – there are no true masters here."

Ranma nodded sullenly, though her interest at the mention of other students was noted by the old man. "I see. I guess I'll be focusing on the few things he left me to study then as far as onmyōdō goes... What about the magic thing? I'd really rather not deal with that as well. All it's ever done is cause me problems." She kept some of her thoughts to herself, schooling her face carefully. Kansai eh...

Konoe frowned slightly. "You would prefer to have that potential sealed, then? It could potentially lock your transformation. Considering your body's capacity for ki in a male form is so much less..."

"I'd rather not give up my transformation if I can help it," Ranma admitted, realizing that not so long ago those words would have been proof she'd gone insane. But, then again, not so long ago she was also surrounded by people who either couldn't deal with it, or took advantage of it. Facing the possibility she could lose either side of herself these days brought the truth of what she'd once considered a curse into stark focus. She just wouldn't feel whole without it, anymore.

The Dean nodded, a slight smile twitching across his lips. "Very well then. I think I can arrange for some tutors, of sorts, as well as access to a library that you may find more answers in. But, let me ask... would you consider continuing your normal schooling?"

Ranma blinked at the old man owlishly. "Eh?"

–


	3. Chapter 3

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

–

Chapter Two

–

_Pinya-pinya-pinpinpin-PON! Pinya-pin- _

Ranma smacked a hand down on the noisome thing that awakened him out of reflex, blinking blearily at the morning sun that greeted him as it streamed in from a window near the western-style bed he was currently sprawled across. Never too swift on the uptake except in a combat sense so early in the day, the pigtailed martial artist simply stared at the unfamiliar room he found himself in, and the bird-shaped alarm clock squirming in his hand as it tried to continue its annoying greeting. His bemused expression melted away, as the events of the day before played out in his mind in a disjointed but passable kind of order.

"I have class in two hours," came first, prompting the young man to switch off his frantically flailing alarm, before stretching like a cat with a cavernous yawn. Hopping to his feet, Ranma reached behind his back, pulling a few small slips of paper and a brush set from his personal ki-space. He was nothing like Mu Tsu with his mastery of the technique, but could manage something akin to a camping pack if pressed, though preferred to keep it to necessities and emergency items – like thermoses, brushes and ink, ofuda paper for various seals and practice, and maybe a change of clothes.

Scribbling out a trio of hasty seals while yawning, Ranma set them each aside to dry as he made his bed, and found a change of clothes from the shopping he'd done the day before. Eying the plain white cotton bra and panties included in the mix, he blinked, sniffed, and shrugged. "Least I don't gotta worry 'bout water accidents," he muttered, taking up the ofuda with the marking for 'wasp' on its face, waving it in the air to dry quicker.

Clearing a space on the floor, Ranma settled himself in seiza, kneeling on a pillow with the the ofuda before him. Centering his ki, the martial artist briefly wondered if his father ever thought training in onmyōdō was as pointless as the other things he usually disparaged – like reading, writing, and education in general. Dismissing those thoughts with an irritated sniff, Ranma focused on his task. He had no desire to linger on history that no longer concerned him.

Though a quick study, Ranma was nowhere near the level his brief teacher Goemon had been at sealcraft and onmyōdō. The eclectic old monk could focus and incant his mantras with little preparation or need for materials, while he still needed the most basic supplies, and a much greater amount of time and focus to do similar things. One such difference was the need for mudras – hand posture signs – of the Kuji-in, rather than the sharp, abbreviated motions used by the Kuji-kiri the monk had assured him he'd pick up in time. Ranma didn't focus on his need to practice and perfect this new Art, as he breathed ki into the needed mantra. Rather than rush, his hands flowed from each posture in slow, precise order. Each was followed by the syllable it represented, a breath for each, given a full measure of his own ki. "_Zai. Pyō. Jin. Rin._ Wake up, Suzumebachi."

The ofuda before him shivered, then began to unfold out from the center like inverted origami. Ranma continued to focus, keeping his mind locked on the task at hand, rather than wondering at the leaps and bounds he'd taken in learning this new Art from the eclectic Master, and how much further he had yet to before he could even be considered 'competent'.

With a final shudder and shift, the small ball of paper unfurled into the form of a tiny female figure wearing a yellow hakui – a kimono-esque robe – with a black and gold accented suikan – a jacket with squared shoulders and wide, draped sleeves – and hakama, also trimmed in gold and earthy brown. Her black hair was unbound and fell below her shoulders, though long bangs covered her eyes, while behind her a pair of hornet's wings twitched. The tiny figure almost looked like a fairy, if not for the rather grumpy expression, tense posture, and wickedly sharp stiletto clenched in her tiny fist. "Master waited a long time to call me again..." the tiny figure finally grumbled, hiding her little weapon in the folds of her traditionally cut clothing.

Ranma chuckled quietly, running a finger over the hand-sized girl's head, causing her to flail half-heartedly at him. The miniature's blush betrayed her, as he knew it would. "Awe, my little Bee isn't happy to see me?"

Suzumebachi huffed, before flitting up to sit on his shoulder. "Master needs Suzu to sting someone...?" She asked with hope clear in her voice.

Shaking his head, the young man stood and stretched again, nearly unseating his small passenger. "No, not today," he replied, wondering again how he ended up with such a bloodthirsty little Shikigami. Loyal, though, he had to admit. "We're in a new place, and I'm not familiar with it. I want you to scout around this building, then as far out as you can in a spiral till you get tired."

The summoned girl nodded, before perking up. "Can Suzu have an apple...?"

"There's one on the table-" Ranma paused, as his passenger disappeared in a blur, knocking the offered fruit off the distant surface with a small yell of victory, followed by the sounds of the mentioned apple's likely messy demise. Chuckling to himself, Ranma spent a few minutes winding his _mala_ around his wrist, before using one of the morning's remaining ofuda seals to cancel the one from last night that let him rest without the beads against his skin, or having to shift into his female form to accommodate the wings that would stabilize the wildly potent ki he wielded. The last paper charm he sat beside the door, for when he left later.

"...need to find a place to do katas..."

The shower as expected triggered the shift into a young woman, and again Ranma stretched, this time working her hair out of its tight braid, carefully placing the Dragon's Whisker on the nearby sink. As she washed, Ranma ran over another point that was made yesterday, "So, I'm supposed to talk to that Takahata guy about getting some control on my ki, and some little girl named Evangeline about my magic." Frowning, the martial artist rinsed the scentless shampoo she preferred from her hair and skin, taking up a shaving razor. "Wonder why old man Konoe insisted I keep an open mind about the girl... eh. Figure it out later." Pushing such concerns to the side for a moment, she went about finishing her grooming, thinking little about the process after so much time spent female in the last few years.

Finishing her shower, Ranma inspected herself in the mirror briefly, before favoring the image with a slight nod as if affirming the person there actually was herself. In a very real way, that was precisely what she was doing. Sometimes it seemed surreal that this was actually her life... bearing a transformation that would completely remake her body, stealing away who Ranma had been most of her – in this case, _his_ – life in an instant. However, with that change came freedom too. As a male, she was bound by honor and a number of other commitments, things her female form lacked. Oh, she was sure Genma would take advantage of the situation if he could, but his usual route was cut off. Who would believe him, saying his son had suddenly become a girl, from a legal standpoint? Personal limits also applied, and the old bastard knew well enough that Ranma wouldn't tolerate a new set of male suitors. A round of violence even Genma had to appreciate had resulted in the hint of that, the one time it happened. Regard for lasting, permanent damage had been thrown out the window, as Ranma gave her typically thoughtless father something to fill his mind with.

As for legality, the previous engagements had that advantage in many ways, with Ukyo's being a sort of common-law arrangement involving a promise and exchange of goods and dowry, while the Tendo agreement was actually on paper... if somewhat illegible and up for interpretation, due to the drunken rambling it did. Though she had those that were interested and pursued her as a young woman, no one had an actual claim. Until recently the idea of using that transformation as an advantage hadn't been an option, what with the Pact her mother held, her home being the Tendo Dojo, and a lingering hope for a cure. True, she had sought one for years, but now... much as she'd explained to the Dean, it would just seem strange to not have her curse anymore. It had become a part of who she was.

With her lips in a tight line, the redhead pulled her underwear on, only somewhat annoyed by the necessity – slightly too frilly for her tastes – but more irritated that she had to wear a skirt as the Mahou Academy regulations demanded. That faded as she recalled that the branch of Mahora she was attending was a girl's school. "At least there's that," she noted to herself in the mirror. "No idiot perverts to make a fuss, and no maniac tomboys to overreact. No Amazons. No love-sick best friends."

Her eyes focused on the sorrowful expression she was sporting, replacing it with one of muted anger and determination. "Not that I need them. They decided they didn't want the freak around anymore once the curse started acting up. Well, good for me, I don't need those kinds of friends," she declared with some heat, before brushing the topic aside. She had preparing to finish.

Ranma eyed the tiny selection of make-up she'd grudgingly collected over the last two years, consisting entirely of a single shade of eyeshadow, some neutral lip gloss, and a base that she found kept her often-sported embarrassed blushing mostly muted. Anything beyond this had been disposed of as the situation that demanded it passed, as for the longest time, Ranma held her cursed form as just that – a curse, rather than simply part of who she was now. With a sigh, she went about the process of applying the lot, knowing she should make a good impression on her first day. She could start going without later, once she was settled in. Lastly, she rebound her hair in its braid, tying it off with the Dragon's Whisker.

Ranma smirked at her image in the mirror, as she settled the tie around her neck and under the collar of her white dress shirt, rather than the rather silly bow that was an option. Long sleeves she had found at Furinkan, were an unstated rule. Scars garnered too many curious looks, and too much attention.

"Hmm, beginning of term," she mused, looking at the uniform guide that came with her clothes. It had been a while since she'd worn a school uniform, and never a girl's one, so she picked up the small brochure at the shop that supplied the clothes so she'd not make too many mistakes. There were allowances for length and drape of skirts, how much accessorizing could be done, what wasn't proper and what was. Most she didn't need to worry about. Ranma had always been spartan in almost all aspects of her life. Seeing that it was still considered a warm weather period, she grabbed the almost-maroon vest, settling it over the brighter red plaid skirt. The blazer jacket would be for colder times of the year, so for now she put it in the closet.

Stepping out of her room, she tested the range of motion for the clothes, sniffing slightly in annoyance. She'd have to do something about the vest and shirts, and likely the jacket too, or she'd rip the back out of them every time she got in a fight. That thought caused Ranma to pause for a moment, before shrugging. "Eh, it'll happen anyway," she mused, knowing her luck. She'd never had been able to go long without some kind of confrontation. Likely Mahora would be no different.

She made a brief breakfast, consisting of rice and miso soup, as she'd not had a chance to do much real shopping, nor did she have the money for it. Sounds of Suzumebachi still enjoying her apple kept her company, her apple not quite finished yet. She was a very tiny girl, after all.

Though she'd 'enrolled' too late to get an on-campus dorm, the off-campus housing may as well have been part of them, being nearly the same distance from the Academy proper. They were larger, however, and made to house two people, which the old man had warned may become a reality as time wore on. Dean Konoe had offered her the option of working for the school as something of a contract security agent, in exchange for room and board at the off-campus apartments. The position would account for the cost of her living arrangements, though he did point out that she'd likely need an official job as well, if she wanted any luxuries or spending cash. The idea of making money without Nabiki there to bleed her dry or Genma to steal it when she wasn't looking appealed to her more than she'd expected.

Ranma decided that sometime early that week, she'd find something to do, in that vein. "Shouldn't be too hard," the redhead noted, staring at her reflection in a mirror as she settled her skirt and the vest over her shirt. Favoring the image there with a bright smile and a little bounce, she snickered. "Yep, still got it."

Noting the time, she grabbed her school bag. "Suzu! I'm heading out!"

"Mistress?" The little Shikigami sped to her shoulder, prodding the redhead's braid lightly. "If Suzu does not get tired, can she come find Mistress?"

Ranma pursed her lips slightly, before shrugging. Likely, the little spirit would get bored of scouting around after a while, and the apple would be more than enough energy for her, for a day. "Sure. Just stay out of sight if you can. These people can probably see you."

The little figure gave a slight chirp. "Suzu is fast. Stupid people won't see Suzu."

"Be careful anyway," the martial artist insisted, letting the two of them out with the last ofuda in her hand. Stretching out her ki, she found no one nearby to witness her small ritual.

Holding the slip between her fingers, she deftly sped through the mudras to set the ofuda. Unlike her Shikigami's summoning, where she had to concentrate and focus to call the proper spirit to her seal, this was a much more rote situation. Messing up here wouldn't cost her anything. "_Tō. Rin. Retsu._ The Oni's den, secured." With a sound like a distant and low gong booming, she slapped the ofuda on her door, where it sizzled for a moment then faded from view.

Suzumebachi raised a tiny brow behind her bangs. "Mistress setting traps for stupid ones?"

Ranma snorted a quiet laugh. "If someone's stupid enough to try to break into my first apartment, then they deserve it." Reaching up, she mussed the tiny girl's hair, getting a muttered squawk in reply. "Off with you, little Bee."

As Suzu disappeared in a tiny whirring blur, Ranma considered the necessity of her last preparation for the day ahead. Dean Konoe had asked that she keep as low a profile as possible, which meant totally sealing her ki as opposed to leaving herself with the last loop of her beaded seal unset. With the full string of one-hundred and eight seals left incomplete, she still had nearly the ki available to her that she'd started with, before moving to Nerima. Ranma was less inclined to fully seal herself, as she had no idea what to expect from Mahora Academy, but sighed and relegated herself to a mostly ki-starved day. "I can go one day without it," she declared, looping the final stretch of her _mala_ back around her wrist, completing the double-cross pattern on both the back of her hand and palm. "I'm a martial artist. I don't _need_ ki. It's just another tool."

Despite the confidence in her statement, Ranma couldn't help feeling somewhat naked, without that wellspring of power thrumming inside her.

–

Ranma figured she was lucky, having found a seat on the train rather than having to stand. Not that she really cared too much either way, but despite her best efforts, first-day jitters were getting to her. Maybe it was the number of other girls around – and the fact that almost all of them were _pretty_ – or the fact she was running on less ki than she'd had since... well _ever_, but she just couldn't shake the nearly electric sense of expectation and anxiety running through her.

She almost laughed at herself, realizing she was _excited_ about her first day as a third-year junior high-school student. Sure, she was playing down her age at Dean Konoe's request, but with her shorter stature and arguably lousy grades, such a deception wasn't wholly unbelievable. Besides, with as muddled and messed up as her records were with all the moving and traveling, it was only by the insane Principal Kuno's oversight she managed to attend Furinkan at all in the first place. At least at Mahora, she had something like a real reason to attend and make an effort. Konoemon had agreed that her records would be available to transfer to Ranma's male form, from the boy's campus at the school, if she did favorably. He also pointed out that she could maintain her records as a female as well – such a thing would offer a grounding point. People she knew, and who knew her, and a network of sorts. The idea was somewhat foreign, but she understood it well enough after some thought.

The option wasn't a bad one... but damn it all, she wasn't a woman. Ranma sighed, realizing how fragile that claim was becoming. Unless she could reverse Jusendo's work on her, then likely the martial artist would spend the bulk of her future as a woman. While this didn't disturb her as much as it used to, those degrees of magnitude didn't alter the fact Ranma would prefer less bias against her male form.

Thinking back on the school she was approaching again, now for a wholly different reason, Ranma's melancholy evaporated. It was replaced by determination, tinged with hope. Maybe she could prove those back in Nerima wrong, by doing well. Maybe all she needed was a chance to actually learn and focus without something strange and weird-

Ranma's bangs blew back away from her face as a sudden wind lashed through the train car, and she was suddenly very grateful for having found a seat, rather than having to stand. Not because she was worried about having her skirt flipped up – she was still working on that female modesty thing, after all – but because her position gave her the perfect view.

A silly grin on her face, Ranma chuckled. "Teal stripes." After a moment, Ranma blinked, before her grin turned into a smile. No mallet. No Amazon counterattack-death-grip. No spatula to the head.

"This is gonna be awesome."

–

"So... you're saying my teacher is a little ten year old brat?"

Shizuna winced, but hardened her expression slightly. "Yes. And he's trying his hardest, with the Dean's full support."

Ranma waved away the woman's concerns, "Don't worry about it. Won't be the first time I've had a kid teaching a class... though." The redhead tapped her chin with a finger as they walked down the hall toward Ranma's new homeroom, "...he isn't some kind of ki-vampire is he? I was kind of looking forward to not dealing with one of those again."

The counselor boggled for a moment, before snapping her jaw back into place. "Ki vampire? What kind of teachers did they hire at Furinkan?"

"Eh, Hinako-chan wasn't so bad, and it wasn't really her fault," Ranma soothed, trying to gloss over her error. "I mean, really, she only used it to calm people down!"

Shizuna just shook her head hard. Dealing with Ranma was either going to vastly broaden her mind, or warp it so out of shape she'd fit into the gender-optional girl's world view. At this point, the blonde counselor was debating the pros and cons of each, trying to lay odds on which way the dice would fall. "...regardless, I think Negi-kun will be a welcome change to what you're expecting."

Ranma shrugged noncommittally. "We'll see."

"3-A will be your homeroom and class," the blonde stated, as she neared the door. The wall of windows that faced the hallway allowed Ranma to look inside the classroom, and observe the well-maintained chaos that seemed quite normal by the look on her guide's face. Not sure what to make of that, she slipped into the obscured portion of the doorway, while Shizuna announced her.

"Negi-kun? My, what a lively group this morning."

The young mage's head snapped around so fast it nearly upset his glasses. "Oh! Minamoto-san. Er, we were just getting ready to start the day's lesson, and-"

Shizuna smiled, "Oh, good! Then I'm not too late. You have a new student this term."

Negi blinked, before returning her smile. "Ah, right. Um, send them in?"

Turning to her side, Shizuna beckoned the redhead forward. "Alright, Saotome-san," she paused, seeing Ranma's wince. "Ah... sorry. They're ready for you, and could you give this note to Negi-kun, before you take a seat?"

"Sure," the redhead agreed, walking before the rather large class till she stood in front of the chalkboard. Ranma hesitated as she picked up the chalk, before mentally shrugging. "Close one door," she murmured quietly, "open another."

Class 3-A watched as the petite redhead scratched her name on the board, some blinking in slight bemusement as they turned to the other resident Saotome, though it appeared they weren't related based on the new girl's spelling of her name. Turning to face them, Ranma offered the girls a wry smirk. "Yep. 'Rioting demon'. My mother got a little strange when she found out I had red hair," she offered in response to the kanji she'd used for her given name. Though it wasn't an outright lie, it was also firmly rooted in truth. Nodoka's reaction to the change had definitely qualified as strange.

"Anyway, name's Saotome Ranma, though I prefer just Ranma and will insist till you see it my way," she quipped, getting a few grins in reply. "I don't really go in for formality much. I recently got back from a trip abroad, I like ice cream and martial arts. Pleased to meet you."

Nearly as amused as his class, Negi welcomed the new girl, as 3-A called out greetings. "Welcome to Mahora, Ranma-san. Lets see if we can find a seat for you," the diminutive teacher muttered, going over the roster and seating chart. While he did that, Ranma placed the note she'd been given on his desk.

"Hmm, there's... seat one, but that note," Negi looked to the mentioned seat, furrowing his brow. Ranma followed his gaze, blinking at the nervous figure she noted... floating in the desk. Deciding to play the presence of a ghost in the classroom by ear, she said nothing for the moment.

"Maybe I could have you sit next to McDowell-sa-" The young teacher froze as a chill ran up his spine. With no small hesitation, he looked up to meet the stony expression of the blonde foreigner in question. "Er, that is..."

A rapid series of thoughts shuffled through the redhead's mind at the name. For one, she knew that an Evangeline McDowell had been named as the Dean's suggestion for seeking out assistance directly with learning about magic, and possibly cures for various things. The Dean himself would also be working on such, but as he said, any help would only add to her chances.

The problem of course was that said girl was a mage. Despite Konoemon's words, assurances, and glowing opinion, Ranma still couldn't bring herself to do anything but regard the stuff with hatred and disdain. The idea of sharing much of her day beside one who willingly tainted themselves with magic galled her badly, but as long as she was working for the Dean and attending Mahora, it had been made clear that her prejudice would need to be kept muted.

"Prejudice my cute little ass," she muttered, missing the confused look her comment got her from class 3-A's sensei. Nodding, Ranma smiled winningly as she gathered her bag. "Sure, beside Eva-san. That'll do."

Negi winced, getting a bad feeling suddenly. "Ah, Ranma-san..."

Walking down the row, the martial artist noted the people she passed with mild interest, not paying most of them much of her full attention. Oddly, she picked out at least half a dozen that could be martial artists themselves... if far below her level. Circling around the moody young girl who looked to be the same age as the teacher, Ranma took her seat at the double desk. "Sorry to intrude," she offered airily, settling in the chair with a sigh. Her companion replied with a quiet huff, which got the attention of the strange girl ahead of the pigtailed teen, who turned her head to offer the blonde an impassive look.

It wasn't the odd metal... _things_ sticking out from either side of her head that got Ranma's attention, so much as the utter lack of ki, or at least, the kind she was used to coming from a person. Ranma was quickly reassessing her view that Mahora was a place she'd be able to do much in the way of catching up with her studies. "I wonder if Pop picked up some kind of other curse while we were traveling. One of those interesting times things," she mused to herself as she settled her bookbag and prepared for class.

Ranma counted off the points in her mind. So far – her teacher wasn't even old enough for his voice to change, her desk-mate who was also supposed to be a contact seemed to find her presence annoying, the girl in front of her was either dead or a robot, there was a resident ghost, there were a handful of martial artists that practiced enough to register against her sense of ki, and if she wasn't mistaken, at least two people in the room had no small talent with magic. And was that gunpowder she smelled?

Recalling something she'd said on entering Mahora the day before, Ranma slumped in her seat. "...it really is a magical girl training school. Great. Just... great."

A girl with glasses in the back of the middle row suddenly had the urge to give the new girl a welcome basket.

Noise from the front of the class drew Ranma's attention. "Ah, a note from Minamoto-san..." Negi seemed to grow flustered and bemused, before announcing to the class at large, "Oh! It seems today is health checkup day, ah, er... Everyone, please prepare to take off your clothes!"

Ranma ignored the general madness around herself that resulted from that declaration, to better apply her forehead to her desk in protest to the direction her life seemed to be taking.

–

One of the things Ranma never got much exposure to, despite her often variable gender, were situations much like the one she found herself in on her first day of class. Thirty young women in various states of undress tended to do rather unhealthy things to her blood pressure, considering that though she was currently in an equally female body, her mind was still that of a seventeen year-old male. Due to her curse being outed at Furinkan early on, she never had the opportunity or need to use the girl's locker rooms, not that she'd likely have put herself in such a situation willingly. Despite Akane's claims, Ranma wasn't a pervert, in no small part due to having the same sorts of things Akane was so against turned against her as well. Most of her exposure to the female body was from Xian Pu – other than her own – and was marred by the fact the same girl spent the first few months of their association trying to assassinate the redhead at every turn. To say she couldn't quite get past that would be understatement.

Despite that, however, Ranma had a very healthy appreciation for the female form.

Which was going to get her into trouble, since everyone was looking at her, so looking anywhere that wasn't neutral ground would be really obvious and likely get her pounded.

"Ok, Ranma-san, come over," one of the girls who had been standing by the scale called. The classroom had been converted slightly, with curtains pulled across the hallway windows, some few supplies needed for the exams rolled in, and a divider put in place if needed. Obviously, their underage teacher had been locked out, though Ranma had to wonder at the teasing comments the child educator got from some of her classmates.

"Eh?" Ranma, though confused, came up to the other student. "Ah, aren't we supposed to wait for a teacher, or nurse...?"

The blonde – another one? – with her hair up in short, spiky tails, regarded her curiously before beaming a smile. "Oh! Ako-chan, Ranma-san doesn't know about how we do things here. Want to explain while I get her started?"

The redhead was ushered up onto a scale while the blonde started shifting the weights, and the pale-haired Ako did so. "Well, you see, we all have other jobs we tend to do for the class," she pointed out quietly while scribbling a few things on a chart.

As Ako noted various things on her record, Ranma put the pieces together, smiling slightly. "So, you're the class nurse?"

Ako nodded shyly. "I'm also an assistant to the Academy nurse, but for the most part, yes," the soft-spoken girl agreed. "Some of the others in the athletic clubs, like Sakurako-san, help me out when we have things like this to do."

"Fifty-seven point six kilograms, Ako-chan," the blonde – Sakurako – announced with a lilt.

Ako smiled softly, while nodding and noting the measure, "Ah, Negi-sensei wanted us to work on our English measurements while we did this. Can you convert that into pounds for me, Ranma-san?"

Never being a huge math fan, Ranma took a moment to work the number out in her head, as Sakurako moved her to the height measurement next. "About... one-hundred and twenty-seven pounds?"

"Hmm," the pale girl nibbled on the end of her pencil pensively, as the blonde announced "One-hundred fifty six centimeters," and Ranma converted it to 5'1". "Are you planning on joining any athletic clubs, Ranma-san?"

The martial artist knew where the shy girl was coming from and grinned. "I work out a lot, and have a lot of muscle density." She held out her arm, tensing it. A few of the students looked on in curiosity as the new girl's muscle tone was revealed. "I may, I dunno."

Ako seemed relieved. She didn't want to make an impression on the new student's first day, by telling her she was slightly overweight and then counsel her on fitness plans. With her degree of muscle tone, however, her height vs. weight made sense, muscle being denser and heavier than other tissue. "That's great, and explains things then."

"Eighty-eight centimeters!"

Ranma's eye twitched as she noted where the blonde was measuring that time, having been distracted by Ako's question. "...is this part of the standard exam?"

The blonde stuck her tongue out impishly as she released the measure from around Ranma's breasts, "We have to know where we stand compared to the new girl!"

"_Izumi Ako, please report to the nurses office..._" came the announcement over the intercom.

"Ah, Sakurako-chan, can you take over for..."

Shaking her head in mild exasperation, Ranma moved back into the class, though her lips quirked with a slight smile at some of the looks she was getting at Sakurako's announcement of her measurements. Pulling her uniform back on, she chuckled to herself. "Yep, definitely still got it."

"...rumor about a vampire at Sakura Lane, right?"

Her ears perked, and Ranma paused in putting her vest back on as she listened in as her classmates chattered on about vampires and blood-sucking monsters, and how one of their friends, Makie, actually did look kind of tasty. Ranma blinked at that, giving the girl who said it a long look.

"You people," the girl with the light-auburn hair, settled into a pair of ponytails by ties sporting little bells admonished. "There's no way a rumor like that could be true. Now, stop talking about stupid things and get back in line so we can finish the checkup!"

Sakurako countered the pony-tailed girl's statement slyly, "Eh, even though you say that, Asuna-san, aren't you a little afraid too?"

While Ranma's attention had been on the new girl to speak, the one before – long dark hair past her shoulders, an easy smile, and cute bangs, who made the comment about her classmate looking tasty – had moved to the board to make a rough sketch of some kind of fish monster or something. Head tilted to the side, Ranma commented on the girl's work, "...Is that a Chupacabra...?"

"Yes!" The dark-haired girl agreed. "I saw a documentary on them once."

"Huh. Good likeness."

"There's no way something like that could exist in Japan!" Asuna declared hotly, before seeming to lose steam in her argument at some thought.

Ranma was trying to catalog all these new faces with their respective names, when a new voice chimed quietly over the noise, "That's right, isn't it Kagurazaka Asuna? You should be careful, after all. The rumors say that the vampire loves the blood of youthful, energetic girls like you." Finding the speaker, the martial artist noted that it was her deskmate that had spoken, filing away a comment from the other blonde about how 'Eva' hardly ever seemed inclined to speak with anyone. Once again Ranma wondered how she was going to broach the topic she had been advised to approach the young girl about – and if maybe the Dean had lost his marbles. How could she possibly learn anything about magic from a ten year-old girl? For that matter, what was with this trend? First Hinako, then this Negi Springfield character, and now a pint-sized witch?

"Sensei!" The entire class jolted at the sudden, panicked call from Ako out in the hall. "Makie's in the infirmary!"

–

"What? Found sleeping in the middle of the road?"

Shizuna nodded at Ranma's blurted question. "Well, not precisely, but close enough. Sakura Lane is a walking path around campus. It runs between the Academy library and the nearest dorms, so there's a lot of foot traffic, usually. At least until late at night. Most avoid it because of the bad lighting, then."

"Oh," Ranma muttered, her anxiety diffusing quickly as the image of the young girl being passed-out in the middle of a highway was banished. "But still, that's just odd," she thought to herself, as her classmates offered one strange explanation after another. However, it was clear that everyone was thinking the same thing, after the morning's excitement. Makie was found at Sakura Lane... the same place the rumored vampire was supposed to show up. Ranma was about to comment on that, when she noted the strange looks that a few of her classmates were sporting.

The girl Asuna looked like she was chewing on a very sour lemon. Clearly something about this situation either bothered her greatly, or she had some theory about it. Ranma wrote it off as more likely that she was a friend of the girl laying asleep in the infirmary bed, and let it go.

Eva McDowell on the opposite side of things, was to be found leaning against the wall near the infirmary door near the green-haired girl from the desk ahead of herself, with a bored look about her. Even after spending just a small while around class 3-A, Ranma found her behavior odd. Though there were a few people who didn't talk much, or seemed somewhat antisocial, the class in general had a close-knit feel about it. These two, however, seemed to not care about the sleeping girl at all. Something about their attitude galled the redhead. Even if it had been Taro, or even Herb in the hospital, she'd have been there wondering about them. This utter apathy just seemed wrong to her.

It was their teacher that pulled Ranma's attention from Eva, with his fiercely contemplative look and intense stare at the bedridden Makie Sasaki. Though she was used to dealing with intense teachers in the past, Ranma hadn't seen the kind of focus Negi was leveling at the young girl even from Hinako on her most determined anti-delinquent rampages. To someone like her who was used to analyzing people and situations, it was clear that Negi knew something about what was going on. Confirming he suspicion, the diminutive teacher seemed so lost in his own thoughts that he missed Asuna trying to get his attention a handful of times.

The problem with her thinking of course, was the fact that the person who seemed most in-the-know at moment happened to be a ten year-old brat of a teacher. Staying a respectful but observant distance away, Ranma listened in as the two talked, only reacting with a smirk when Negi announced he'd be home late that night. She schooled her own expression, until Negi announced that the class would return to their room shortly.

She trailed behind the rest of the students, supposedly taking in the sights of the halls, while the other girls were preoccupied with worrying about Makie Sasaki. As she walked back to 3-A, the redhead folded her hands behind her head. "Maa, maa... not very subtle, is he...?"

"The same could be said about others as well, Mister Saotome," a familiar voice countered from just behind Ranma in English.

She didn't react to her surprise, though Ranma did tilt her head back and around to peer at the short blonde behind her from the corner of her eye. "See, I distinctly remember telling everyone to call me Ranma, Miss McDowell," she replied in kind.

The short blonde behind her didn't quite smile. "Oho. I didn't expect your English to be as good as that, according to your records," Eva replied, walking beside the same stoic girl that had stayed by her side in the infirmary. "I wonder if you have other surprises just waiting to be discovered..."

"Considering how you addressed me as 'Mister' just now, I'd have to say you've got me at a disadvantage in that regard," the redhead countered in a quiet voice, dropping her arms so her hands hung loosely at her sides.

Eva's expression couldn't quite be called a grin, though there was open amusement there. "Well, I wouldn't want to appear rude. Let me make it up to you, then. I'll meet you at Starbooks Coffee this afternoon around...?"

"Six will do."

"Perfectly fine," Eva graciously allowed. "If I'm unable to attend for whatever reason, Chachamaru here will be there to relay my apologies and help reschedule," the shorter girl continued airily.

Ranma allowed a wry smile to bend her lips, as the two stoic girls made their way past and up to the rest of the class. "Curiouser and curiouser," she quoted, again in English, before shrugging with a quiet laugh to follow their example.

–

The remainder of Ranma's first day went by, and she was at once reassured and disappointed that it did so in a fashion she was familiar with.

It was boring.

True, the girls of Mahora Academy class 3-A managed to keep things more interesting than she had expected them to, with their odd squabbles and surprisingly diverse skills... but school was school, and Ranma found herself losing focus quickly despite them. It seemed that the administrators of Mahora expected that kind of reaction and planned for it, giving their students breaks and interspersing activities into the day to keep boredom from creeping in. It worked for the most part, and Ranma was grateful for that, particularly during math class.

Oddly enough, her deskmate Evangeline proved to be a consistent source of interest, as she blazed through almost all the given assignments in a fraction of the time most needed – except for Negi's particular class, that being English. Most of that period, Eva spent staring pointedly at the young teacher, defying common biology Ranma was fairly certain by blinking perhaps once every fifteen minutes. She certainly had no great need for that class, Ranma admitted, recalling their conversation after the short side-trip to the infirmary that morning. Not that she herself did either, as it turned out, thanks to Hinako's tutoring the previous year.

Lunch time came and with it her Shikigami, Suzumebachi, who had managed to scout and familiarize herself with the area a few blocks in distant in a wide circle from Ranma's apartment, as well as the route from it to Mahora. This resorted in a very sleepy but accomplished tiny girl, who half shifted without another word outside of her brief report into the form of an origami bee to rest. Ranma took up the fragile slip of paper and settled it in her hair above her ear with a barrette. With her ki sealed up, the exhausted Shikigami wouldn't recharge nearly as quickly, and was unlikely to awaken before her limited summoning contract had expired. Ranma figured she would be safe that way, though she considered dismissing her to gain the spirit's memories sooner. That urge was compounded as she also didn't like calling the tiny girl away from her home for so long, just to do her chores, though her paranoia wouldn't let her do much else. In this case it was either Suzu doing so while she was in class, or do so herself over the course of that night instead of sleeping.

Ranma carefully avoided anyone with an apple regardless of her Shikigami's apparent state of unconsciousness over their lunch period. The tiny girl had been known to stab first and ask permission later when it came to her favored snack, and a groggy Suzu – though cute – was deadly.

Classes ended and evening came without incident, and after a few inquiries, Ranma made her way to the coffee shop Eva had indicated. Although she had half expected the younger girl to have found a way to avoid the meeting, Eva and the odd girl named Chachamaru were present, apparently enjoying the afternoon on the open deck the shop offered. "Well, this looks cozy," the martial artist offered with a grin as she took a seat across from the blonde.

"Indeed," Eva replied, taking a long sip of her drink. "Though, I can't linger long to chat. I have an outstanding engagement this afternoon I'd rather not miss."

Ranma flagged down a waitress, ordering a tea. "Then I won't keep you long," she offered, leaning back in the deck chair. "Old man Konoe said I should talk to you about my problems with magic."

Evangeline heaved a sigh, rubbing at her temple idly. "...and this is why the youth of today are sent to schools for this kind of thing."

Snorting indelicately, Ranma leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "Look, I know that Mahora's more than it appears," she challenged with half-lidded eyes. "I'm not up for dancing around the issue for days or weeks till someone decides it's time to show off and make an entrance." The waitress approached, and Ranma offered her a smile, as she delivered the redhead's tea. After testing and humming appreciably at the brew, she continued in a less confrontational tone. "Konoe talked to me, and sent me to you. I'll wager if I asked, he'll say something along the lines that he'd already told you to expect me."

"It may have come up..."

"Now, I'm not quite as dumb as I play at," Ranma went on, smiling at a passing student who caught her eye. "Call it a martial arts thing – I prefer to be underestimated by potential opponents."

Eva stilled in her chair, while Chachamaru's full attention came to rest on the redhead sipping her tea. "So, does that make me a 'potential opponent'?"

Ranma shrugged. "Dunno. Gonna cut the bullshit?"

Eva couldn't help but bark a laugh at the audacious redhead. "My, my. What a crass and uncultured one you are," she noted with a sly grin. "But, I can't help but find that endearing, even if you don't know what you're getting into." Turning to her stoic companion, the small blonde girl's demeanor shifted slightly, softening. "Chachamaru, a white-noise field, if you would?"

The green-haired girl's 'ears' shifted slightly, and a slight pressure seemed to press in on Ranma's own. "Done, mistress."

"Excellent, now we can speak freely," Eva explained to the curious redhead. "Despite what you think, Mahora is not _openly_ a school for the unusual. Secrecy is something of a rule in this case. It does however have a large population of those who are in the know, as it is. Chief among them of course is the Dean himself, whom you've met."

Ranma nodded. "Decent guy, seems like the sort that likes to meddle though."

Eva smiled. "That he does, certainly. Which is why I tell you now – think carefully about any deals or offers he makes you. Though I've always known him to be fair, he isn't just a man, he's also his station. I have read the records, if scattered, of your time in Nerima. Don't you think it just slightly curious that he would so readily let such a potentially disruptive influence come not only to his school, but also attend classes with his very granddaughter?"

That did seem strange to Ranma, but she was also used to how common coincidences seemed to flock to her. "So your saying he's got some kind of ulterior motive, involving me?"

"He may, he may not," Eva admitted. "I simply would advise caution. Mages are by nature secretive and conniving to varying degrees. But, back to why one shouldn't speak so openly of magic... there are rules in place, and those that enforce them. The various regional Magic Associations are for the most part responsible for their members and the registration and oversight of those who are not within their directories," the diminutive blonde explained, while stirring her coffee. "As you may have guessed, revealing the existence of magic wantonly to random people, being careless with artifacts, or behaving in such a way that it endangers such secrecy is frowned on. There are numerous penalties, including being turned into an ermine for a period of time."

"Ermine?"

"A weasel-like animal commonly hunted or farmed for its fur," Chachamaru chimed in.

Ranma raised a brow, sipping her tea. "Kinda harsh."

"To a mage, there is nothing quite as terrible as having their magic – or worse, their will to use it freely – taken from them. General awareness of magic would lead to nearly every mage in existence being picked out and for all intents and purposes, killed, dissected, or caged and used by whichever power could do so first. The punishments for those that break the rules give them a taste of that loss, as an educational experience."

Tapping a spoon against the side of her cup, Ranma frowned. "So, you're saying that he set me up for a fall? Somehow I don't see that."

Eva shook her head. "No, not at all. But this is what he sent you to me for. To learn. To understand what it is you're dabbling with and getting into. Magic is more than fancy words, strange lights, and gratifying results. There is an entire culture to it, and like most cultures, they have those that police their own. That is one of the first lessons most are taught – be subtle, and don't make waves."

"But," Eva commented, her head tilted to the side, "I am unsure how precisely this relates to you. Konoemon spoke as if you had at least passing potential for the mage arts, yet all I can sense is a spark. Barely worth notice."

Ranma regarded the blonde before her blandly. "If you looked up my records, you know I change forms. The other one has the potential, according to the old man."

Evangeline stared, before taking another long drink of her coffee. "I wonder if it has anything to do with... yes, most likely, considering how natural energies already separate... mm, fascinating."

"Oi, shorty, I'm still here, y'know."

The atmosphere, previously quite cozy if somewhat tense at points, suddenly took a decidedly negative turn. "...what did you call me? Was it by chance that I was short? Small perhaps?" The blonde was suddenly standing on her chair, her hands slapping down on the table with her face inches from Ranma's own. "Maybe that I was tiny, like a bean?"

Ranma slowly turned her head, so she faced Chachamaru. "...she's a little touchy about that, isn't she?"

"Mistress has her moments," was all the strange girl offered in reply.

The martial artist palmed the blonde's forehead, pushing her back into her seat. "How about you explain what all that mumbling you were doing was about?"

Eva collected herself, coughing delicately into her fist. "I would, except I have that prior engagement to see to. We can schedule something soon, of course, Chachamaru will assist with that-"

"This have something to do with that Negi kid?"

Her mouth working silently for a moment, Eva sat back to regard the young woman before her intently. "I wonder what leap of logic you followed to reach that conclusion, or if there was an actual path of deduction involved."

Ranma smiled over her tea. "Like I said, I prefer to be underestimated. It wasn't too hard, really. I'm an outsider to 3-A, and so things that other people would be used to or discount because of familiarity I pick up on. When we were walking in the hall, I even mentioned it, if you recall."

Eva smiled slightly. "So you did. But what made you think I was involved?"

"Mostly in that you didn't react at all," Ranma explained as she left the cost for her tea under the edge of her empty cup. "Even the girls in class that seemed uninterested in the rumors or didn't react too much to the announcement that Makie was in the infirmary showed a little reaction. Classes stick together, after all. You guys have been in the same group for how long? At least two years now?

"But you and Chachamaru here didn't seem surprised or concerned at all," Ranma continued, standing as the others did so. "Asuna seemed upset, but then, she seems... energetic."

"Understatement," the blonde chimed in.

The three walked a little distance in silence, as the sky darkened above them. "So, basically it came down to confirmation. Negi already did his part, saying he'd be out late. Teacher he may be, but he's only got one class through the day, and sorry to sound a bit critical, but the kid needs to focus. No way he's got that much work with what I saw." Ranma smiled slightly at a memory, shaking her head. "Kid's got nothing on Ninomiya."

"You know the gymnastics's teacher?"

Ranma blinked owlishly. "I... think maybe we're talking about different people. Anyway, the timing was too convenient. This Makie girl supposedly gets attacked, Negi gets in a huff about it and decides to get home late doing something at the same time, and now you have an important appointment – after dark, on a school night. And you're what, ten?"

Eva's eye twitched madly for a moment. "Just for the record, you shouldn't judge things on appearances here at Mahora."

"Noted," Ranma replied with a shrug. "But, the observation stands.

"Besides, I got a note today from the Dean, telling me that I should pass along a message," pulling out a small slip of paper, the redhead began to read. "'Tell Miss McDowell that she has limited permission to test and assess young Mr. Springfield, and that my allowance for this and her previous acts resulting in no lasting harm, are contingent on aptly informing and instructing you – Ranma – of the things I discussed with her.' Not that I needed the hint, really."

Once Evangeline got her temper under control, she addressed the redhead who was still walking at her and Chachamaru's side. "Alright. I suppose that clears that up... but why are you following me?"

"Curiosity mostly. Since the Dean is letting you do whatever you're planning, I figure I may as well watch. You know. Make sure nothing gets out of hand," she replied in an airy fashion, waving a hand dismissively. "And besides, it falls within my job description."

That caused the younger girl to pause in her walk. "Oh? I wasn't aware you were hired for anything."

"You mean you didn't get the memo?" Ranma asked, flashing an irritating grin. Pulling a small wallet from somewhere on her person, she flipped it open, her grin widening as Eva's eyes did the same.

"'Mahora Special Security'? That damned brat, just because he's running this stupid school..." the blonde ranted quietly, her hands clenching angrily. "So. This afternoon was all staged."

Draping an arm across the shorter girl's shoulders, Ranma guided them back to the main walk, ignoring the fierce tenseness in the blonde's shoulders. "Nah, not really. I was curious, and wanted to get a feel for this person I was told was supposed to be my tutor. The old man really didn't ask me to get involved, and since I work on contract, if I go out of my way to do something on my own, I may even lose that." Shaking her head, the taller redhead ruffled Eva's hair. "Lets just say, I'm seeing what my teacher's got to show me."

The diminutive vampire's irritation drained away as Ranma explained herself, finally leaving her with an amused smirk in its place. "Is that so? Then, perhaps I'll make this into a practical demonstration!"

"Mistress..."

"Chachamaru, stay with Ranma," Evangeline ordered, as they strolled into a darkened byway. "Keep her out of sight... I'll meet up with you where we planned."

Though it looked like the stoic girl wanted to object, she nonetheless bowed and affirmed her instructions, "Yes, mistress."

Ranma whistled lowly as the young blonde hopped from bench to streetlight to roof, making a rapid path toward what most likely would end up being Sakura Lane. "She's got a bit of a flair for the dramatic, doesn't she?"

Chachamaru merely nodded quietly. "Come. There is a vantage that I will use to ensure things proceed correctly. You are welcome to accompany me." The green-haired girl seemed to assess her remaining companion for a moment. "Do you need assistance?"

Shaking her head, Ranma released the first loop of her _mala_, feeling her ki respond like sluggish water for a moment, before surging against her like a dammed ocean. "Nah... I'm good."

–


	4. Chapter 4

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

–

Chapter Four

–

She had to admit, Sakura Lane really lived up to its name. From a nearby obscured rooftop, Ranma looked down at the long stretch of finely paved walk, having heard quite a bit about it that day, but in the way of rumors, learned nothing of real use. She worked to amend that, in the time she had before Eva began whatever it was she was planning. Stretching from a plaza near the library toward the streets and sidewalks that eventually broke off to feed some of the on-campus dorms, the cherry tree bordered lane seemed the ideal sort of place for a romantic afternoon. Streetlights weren't closely grouped Ranma noted, likely to give the lane an air of antiquity. Their designs, somewhat resembling older gas lights, lent to that idea.

All together, Ranma had to admit it was a very cliché place for a 'vampire' to attack. That line of thought brought her mind back to the suspicion she'd had in mind since earlier in the day. "So," she began quietly, speaking to Chachamaru at her side, "if I'm reading things correctly, then the Dean wants to see what that Negi kid can do, by letting Evangeline play her little game."

The green-haired girl beside him said nothing.

"Which, with the rumors in place going around, means that little Eva's the dreaded vampire of Sakura Lane."

"That is a logical, if somewhat fanciful assumption," the stoic young woman replied quietly.

Ranma shrugged minutely. "Not too worried about the whole 'this can't be real' side of things. Seen a lot of stuff like that already, so I keep an open mind. If I locked up because something was strange every time I got in a fight, I'd never win," she admitted with a dry laugh.

Chachamaru let the silence settle between them after that. As the wind picked up, sending sakura petals spinning into the air, she broke that quiet with a question of her own, "Do you like to fight, then?"

"Odd question," Ranma replied, after a moment. "I suppose I do. I like pushing and testing myself. It's something I'm good at, so it's only natural that I want to see how I compare to others. See where I can improve myself."

The robot considered those words before nodding once. "Self-improvement is only natural."

Ranma's laugh chimed over the darkened lane as she leaned back on her hands, reclining where she sat. "You're a little strange, you know?" She missed the slight frown that crossed Chachamaru's face, as her eyes had closed. "But... that's alright. I don't think I could be friends with someone who was too normal."

"Friends?"

"Well... yeah," Ranma replied with a quieter voice, the earlier confidence drained away as she spoke. "I understand you and Eva are probably friends, and... I think I'll be working with her for a while, at least while I'm here. So it would be good for us to be friends too, don't you think?"

Chachamaru turned her head to consider the young woman nearby. It was clear that Ranma wasn't comfortable with her words, despite her previously outgoing and easy manner. With her eyes closed while she sported a very fake carefree grin, she put forward an image of someone with little concern for something that apparently meant more than she was letting on. "I see," the robotic girl answered blandly, returning her attention more fully to where her mistress was.

Ranma's facade cracked, as her grin disappeared. Her desire for conversation lost at the other girl's lack of response. "Of course," the redhead mused to herself silently. "If Eva knows about the curse, then it stands that this girl would as well. Seems you win another one, Akane."

"Ah, if the Dean says things are fine, then I shouldn't be a bother," Ranma huffed, hopping to her feet. The urge to see what kind of demonstration Eva would be putting on fading as the night's chill increased with her sudden unease in the other's presence. She was just tired, the martial artist told herself, while waving to the curious if silent Chachamaru. Hopping from rooftop to rooftop, she considered dropping to the ground, and sealing her ki again with her _mala_. She discarded the idea almost violently. "Tch. What do I care about fitting in, in a place like this?"

"Not like I'm actually here to make friends."

–

"Ah, you're here early," the secretary exclaimed, seeing the petite redheaded girl waiting outside the offices. She checked her watch once more, seeing it was still a handful of minutes before she was due to open her offices, as she walked up to the young woman's side.

Ranma favored the woman with her best smile, "Good habit to have, I've been told." Helping the woman with her papers and bag as she unlocked the doors to the campus employment office, the martial artist introduced herself. "My name is Ranma Saotome, and I'm a student at Mahora as of this year. I have a job at the Academy as sort of a security assistant, but the Dean suggested I get a regular job to help pay bills," she explained. "Since I have class in an hour, I thought it best to come by, in case there's anything I could look into this afternoon."

The secretary blinked at the young woman, before smiling brightly. "How industrious. I'm sure that any business we can send you to help with will be quite grateful."

"That's my hope," Ranma demurred, as she was lead inside.

"So, what kind of work were you thinking of, Saotome-san? Do you have any special skills or training?"

Ranma knew she had to keep a reign on her boasting, at least here, or she'd likely get placed at something horrible she'd hate. Work may be work, but the last thing she needed was to have what free time she had sapped away by some terrible job, like the few times she had to work at the Nekohanten. "Well... as for talents, I'm a very good martial artist. I don't mind hard work, or labor type things at all.

"Skills," she tapped her chin in thought, trying to categorize all the odd things she'd picked up over the years into something like a resume. "I can cook, though not at the level of a professional chef. I used to work as a waitress as well," she grudgingly admitted, realizing her actual experience in this sort of thing was lacking. "I... I have a number of service skills," she finally declared, almost desperately.

The secretary was somewhat taken aback by the young woman's vehemence, but only let a small smile show. "Service experience, like... tea and lodging preparation? Cleaning?"

Ranma nodded, her expression lightening from where it had fallen. "Yes."

"There is one position I know of, that was high priority. They were asking for a young man, as they wanted someone who didn't mind some labor occasionally-"

"I don't mind that kind of thing at all," Ranma asserted strongly.

Humming to herself, the secretary put that particular entry aside. "Why not try this," she offered, flashing the young woman an open employment request to a place called Chao Baō Zi.

Ranma's smile turned brittle. "Ah... a Chinese...?"

"Restaurant," the older woman finished for the uneasy girl. "It's run by a very successful young woman... oh! It looks like she's even in your class at Mahora. In fact, a number of your classmates seem to work for her." Warning flags went up quickly at the name, and only continued to do so as the woman went on. "Yes, a very enterprising young woman named Chao Lingshen runs it out of a streetcar. She has a special permit to do so, and her food is amazingly good." Quite taken with her own arguments and idea, the secretary pulled out the referral form, "I'm sure this will be the perfect-"

"I'll take the other one."

The woman was brought up short by Ranma's curt interruption. "Eh?"

Leaning forward, Ranma picked up the first notice, handing it to the woman. "I'll take this one."

"But-"

"Can you have the referral done in a few minutes? I still have to be at class soon."

Seeing the redhead's resolve, the woman caved in. "Alright, I'll be just a minute getting it filled out."

"Thank you very much," Ranma replied with a deep bow.

–

As she was walking down the street between Ku Fei and Satsuki on the way to class that morning, Chao suddenly stiffened, and suppressed a shiver. Her fellow nikuman fanatic, Ku Fei, asked if she was alright.

"I... I just had the most unnerving feeling. It could only have been a great disturbance in the Workforce, as if the wallets of millions of men suddenly cried out in despair, and then went silent."

Ku Fei regarded her sometimes-insane friend and employer with narrowed eyes. "This better not have anything to do with a new uniform-aru," she commented.

Chao stuttered and tried not to meet anyone's eyes, laughing nervously.

"Uh-huh. I think we need to discuss the veto-powers of stockholders, boss-aru." Ku Fei wrapped a deceptively strong arm around the dumpling-haired girl in question, much to her discomfort. "And why you never end up in the waitress uniforms yourself-aru."

–

Ranma knew she was going to be late if she took the normal route to class. "If that damned secretary would have just gotten that other place off her brain... swear some people are more enslaved to their stomach than I am."

Eying the entrance to Mahora, the row of windows – three open – belonging to class 3-A, and her tightly wound _mala_, Ranma came to a decision. "Just today. Don't feel like starting my morning holding buckets," she promised herself, grinning as she loosed the first loop of her seal.

Picking the furthest window from the front of class, she made a brief scan of her surroundings, before leaping up and landing lightly on the nearby second-story sill. Holding tightly to the molding beside the window, she pushed it open a bit more, giving her the space she'd need to slip through. For a moment, the wind picked up, but she had a good hold and ignored it as her braid whipped over her shoulder. Seeing that the only person paying any attention in her direction was a tanned girl with odd markings on her face, Ranma put a finger to her lips. The girl blinked once, then nodded as the redhead slipped inside and quietly took her seat, creeping along the back wall as unobtrusively as possible.

She apparently didn't need to have bothered, as it turned out Negi wasn't even at class yet. Oddly, there were a few others who it seemed would be late or absent as well, including her deskmate Eva, Asuna Kagurazaka, and the auburn-haired girl's friend with the talent for sketching Chupacabras.

Once they arrived, there was a short conversation between Negi and Chachamaru, while Ranma tried to ignore the pointed looks she was getting from both Chupacabra-girl and Asuna. Class began, though it was somewhat less productive than expected, as the diminutive teacher seemed to have his mind on everything but teaching. There was a point where Ranma had to review what was said... as she couldn't really believe that Negi had asked Ako Izumi about being 'partners' with a ten year-old. Seeing Miyazaki's sudden blush and half-voiced confession, then the class rep's blatant response, the martial artist had to wonder what the hell was up with the girls of 3-A. Sure, it was a girl's school, but to fawn and throw themselves at an underage teacher? After a few minutes watching the resulting scene much like one would a train wreck in slow motion, Ranma decided there was something critical she was simply missing.

"Uhm... Saotome-san?" Ranma jerked at the sudden voice, having nearly dozed off. It was currently a period between classes, and as usual, students were up and chatting amongst themselves, or taking a moment to stretch and wake up between subjects. Ranma looked up from her reviewing of the assignment for the upcoming class to see Chupacabra-girl standing there with a slightly nervous if genuine smile in place.

"Yeah? Did you need something...?"

"Oh!" The young woman blushed, before bowing briefly, "Konoka Konoe. I was wondering..." looking around, her blush only intensified, until she sat in Eva's usual place. In a quieter voice she continued. "I was wondering how you did that this morning."

Ranma's face went white. "Ah... not really sure what you mean."

"This morning, when you jumped up to the second-story window outside of class," Konoka insisted in a whisper. "Asuna-chan, Sensei, and I had just come around the wall at the base of the stairs that lead to the Academy, and well... your hair is pretty distinctive."

She had the grace not to curse in front of the girl, "Ah, look... it's kind of a long story."

Konoka considered that, then seemed to come to some conclusion. "Can you meet me for lunch?"

Ranma shook her head, "Not today. I have to meet Takahata-sensei to talk about some of my transcript," she stated vaguely, knowing there was no good way to blow the issue off. She needed to do damage control, and with this being the Dean's granddaughter if her suspicions were correct from her name, the sooner the better. "Look, I have an interview to go to after class. If you want, you can come with me, and we can talk on the way."

"Sure, I'll just tell Asuna-chan where I'll be," the smiling girl replied happily. "See you then."

Leaning back in her chair, Ranma blew at her bangs, causing them to flutter up from her breath. "Man, can't catch a break today."

–

"I'm fairly sure you can imagine why I've called you to a conference, today," Takamichi Takahata greeted, an easy smile coming to his features. Ranma shrugged as she looked around the small but cozy office, sweeping her gaze over the décor and various oddities that spoke of a person, in such places.

Though he had passed along class A to the young mage Negi Springfield, the graying man still kept all his various trinkets and reminders of those who had studied under him, and whom he had held homeroom with for nearly two years. Pictures, copies of trophies, plaques, and certificates littered the small space, labeled with names Ranma would one day find familiar. Of course, Takahata had taught before the current 3-A, and there were quite a few other names listed, as he had been at Mahora for nearly a decade himself.

Across from his small office desk littered with papers and baubles, sat a disgruntled and irritable Ranma Saotome, who paid little attention to those memories, strewn haphazardly about beyond noting them with a passing eye. "Well," the redhead began, peering at a clock and gauging her chances of getting away to get a quick bite to eat, "I can guess you're the guy I'm supposed to talk to about my ki, like Eva's been set up for magic."

Takahata nodded slightly, "True, if generic. I'm not a very hands-on type of tutor, in this kind of thing, so I don't know how much help I can be." Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on the arms of his chair, resting his chin atop laced fingers. "More, I'm here to give you a brief cram session about the rules."

Ranma tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Rules, huh? What kind of rules?"

"For one, those that protect us," the gray-haired man continued, taking a moment to settle his glasses more firmly on his nose. "As you can probably guess or may have heard from Eva-san, the various Magic Associations work to keep magic from the public eye. To a degree, this applies to those who have ki abilities as well. To enforce this, there are something like police groups, and oversight committees-"

"Yeah, I get it," Ranma interrupted, having heard something similar from Eva as he'd said. "Big Brother's watching, and he's not too happy with nails that stick up."

Takahata smiled slightly. "In the most generic terms, yes," he agreed. "Now, you may be wondering where these people were, while you were growing up, or when you had your troubles in Nerima.

"The easy answer is, they were likely watching but found no need to interfere," Takahata continued. "Martial artists tend to be very private people, who keep their arguments local, or within certain boundaries inside their own circles."

Ranma actually laughed at that. "You've never been to Nerima, man. I mean, it was part of the Kantō region, but we never saw your 'police' at all."

"There have been two incidents, one that you should be somewhat aware of," the graying man countered. "One was a martial master from some time ago. He was a rather unpleasant fellow, who used his skills for theft and petty things. If he hadn't taken the steps he did against the region's law enforcement at the time, he wouldn't have been punished... but he did, and was."

The story the man was telling sounded oddly familiar, and Ranma felt an odd sinking feeling from it. Taking a guess, she hazarded, "His name was Happosai wasn't it?"

The teacher smiled his slight smile again. "Yes. His ability to draw on his own ki was stripped, as a punishment."

Again, Ranma laughed, "You realize you just made him worse, right? He's turned that petty theft you were talking about into a lifestyle, and uses the ki from his 'silky darlings' to fuel himself now. He's even developed a method to give someone else an imperfect version of his own technique." She spent a moment enjoying the man's dumbfounded look. "Oh, and he's still at large, too."

"We... thought it was just a copycat. Maybe a disgruntled student," Takamichi muttered, shaking his head. "The man can't still be alive. That ki seal should have shortened his life dramatically, for someone with a body so dependent on it for so long."

"He's the grandmaster for Musabetsu Kakutō Ryū. Adaptability is the blood of that school," she informed the man with more than a little pride, in her school and her grandmaster strangely enough. The fact he'd trumped mages at their own game amused her to no end, and caused her to reassess the old pervert slightly, not that she hadn't already done so once, recently. "He's also the one that taught my Pops, and me, and got my head on straight when it came to my curse."

"I... see."

"Nah," Ranma countered, "I don't think you really do. See, you're right in that we do tend to police our own. I mean, most of what I did was go around pounding jerks that got some stupid idea about messing with my friends," she explained. "Part of my code, and all.

"But the point is, for two years now we've been tearing Nerima apart. Even got an unofficial nickname – The Nerima Wrecking Crew," she recalled fondly, a nostalgic smile creeping across her features. "Lot of property damage. Lot of big fights. Not a lot of subtlety. So, I gotta ask, where was Big Brother during all that?"

That was a good question, Takahata realized. One he didn't have the answer to. Initially, he'd meant to somewhat wow and put the fear of punishment into the girl before him, over her possible mistakes, but that seemed a lost cause now. Such a mindset would make her more open to being taught what they had to offer, and more receptive to the Kantō Association's rules. Free agents like her only caused the rest of the region trouble, something even a magic school dropout like him knew well enough. More than anything, and more-so now that she was attending and connected to Mahora, Ranma needed guidance and structure to protect herself and those she was around.

More pressing than his lack of intimidation of her, not that it was something he was really working for – not his style – was the glaring hole in their network of information. How had Nerima slipped through the cracks so much? He'd bring the issue to the Dean. Chief Konoe could ferret out the problem much easier than he could. "I don't know how such a place could have slipped our notice for so long," the graying teacher replied, "but I'm going to get the ball rolling on figuring out why."

"Well," Ranma offered with a wry grin, "if you guys go in planning on sealing more people like you did Happosai, I'd toss that idea now." Her grin grew into a nasty smirk, "That is unless you like the idea of an entire dojo's worth of ki-draining perverts running around."

Takahata winced. "I'll pass that along. Lets put Nerima aside for now, and focus on the rules I mentioned. We'll start with the important ones, dealing with secrecy, and work our way down from there."

Ranma sighed and settled back in her chair, all hopes of making it to lunch tossed aside. She was surprised when a freshman came a few minutes after they began, bringing a tray of sandwiches and a few cans of tea. The teacher across from her smiled at her confusion, "You didn't think I'd make you miss lunch, and then not make it up somehow, did you?"

"Er, well..."

"I understand that you've not had a lot of good experiences with authority," the graying man said. "But, Mahora can be different, if you let it. Whether or not you give it a fair try is up to you in the end."

Silent for a long moment, Ranma nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it. So, tell me about these rules."

"As I mentioned, most deal with keeping things like ki and magic out of the notice of the general population."

"Why?" Ranma interrupted, cracking open a can of tea from a vending machine.

The question wasn't unexpected, "For the most part, everyone has a tiny spark of both ki and magic within them. Those that have more than that, are few and far between, and tend to get scouted out or show signs early, and taught to keep a low profile. For someone like you, raised in a martial arts background, it was pretty clear and your family took up giving you the needed discipline. Do you perform excessive displays without need? Waste your energy? Use flashy attacks that aren't called for pointlessly? Those kinds of rules are what keep the Associations from coming down on martial artists, for the most part."

"Suppose that makes sense," Ranma admitted.

"As for why there's need, call it human nature. Fear and jealousy don't help things. Greed would push people to try and take advantage of gifts like magic and ki," Takahata explained around a mouthful of sandwich. "Current wars are bad enough, and the Yakuza really doesn't need any more help."

Ranma nodded slowly, recalling the few times early on in Nerima and on the road she'd been approached to join such groups. In the case of the Yakuza, they'd been very direct and had to be beaten down to take no for an answer, and when it came to more official organizations, Genma had insisted they disappear as soon as possible. Though she knew now that a lot of the old man's motivations were suspect, Ranma could always trust his sense of self-preservation. Over the next half an hour she learned about the usual rules, most being simple common sense. Don't blast away with ki in the middle of shopping centers, and don't do anything 'inhuman' in front of those outside of the loop, were the themes most followed.

Once she grasped the basics, they moved to another topic. "So, you demonstrated your upper-end potential for ki, but as the Dean explained, you can't control it very well at that level?"

"Hence the wings," Ranma explained. "I can only guess I sort of patterned what was going on by what I knew. The Phoenix people and all, being in Jusendo," she admitted. "I was afraid I was turning into a phoenix as well, and I think my ki fixed on that image. So, when I'm not sealed, and don't have my wings 'out', my control is shot."

Takahata hummed in thought. "Actually, I think you may be somewhat incorrect in your thinking," he disagreed. "As I said, there are two generic energies – that have infinite variations – that we categorize things into. Ki is hard to nail down a solid definition for normally, but is considered the energy of life in motion, flowing into and through all things, but concentrated more in those things being alive.

"Magic is more structured, requiring rigid controls and tolerances, and is most often thought of as the energy of life standing still. It focuses in ideas that don't change, and changing magic itself is hard." Leaning back in his chair, the graying man saw the confusion on Ranma's face at his explanation. "Think of it like this – magic is mathematics, and ki is physical education."

Ranma blinked and perked up. "Oh."

"That isn't to say there aren't formulaic methods for ki, or physical ones for magic. Just a generic framework, to keep them easier to understand.

"Ki you're very aware of already, but back to the wings. Beings with more ki than their bodies can maintain usually manifest it in some way that acts as a vent, or radiator, if you're familiar with mechanics. A way to 'bleed off' excess ki, though that's probably a bad analogy, as you really don't loose anything," Takahata mused. "This is why I was wary to tutor you, as your potential in ki far exceeds my own. I have more training in control and focus, but it would be like a beaver explaining dam building to an engineer. The scales are all wrong."

Ranma fidgeted in her seat a moment, "Still, any help at all..."

"I understand, which is why I'm trying," the older man soothed. "Just be patient with me, as I try." Seeing the redhead nod, Takahata continued. "Each energy has a... realm, for lack of a better explanation tied to it," he haltingly explained. "There are spirit – ki in this case – beasts and beings, as well as magical ones. Each realm has their own natives, and variations on them. One of the most iconic of the spirit realm's denizens are known in western myths as angels."

The redheaded youth startled at that. "Angel?"

Takahata laughed quietly, easily reading Ranma's concern. "You're not an angel, despite being a lovely young woman," the man joked, earning him a halfhearted glare. "There are a number of spirits that have come in contact with humans, and when we are pushed to rise above ourselves, sometimes these archetypal forms resurface in our minds. That's what I'm working to explain."

"So... I patterned my change off of some old memory? Weird."

"Not really. You needed a way to express the change in yourself, and called on images of those who have been changed too. There's a whole school of thought on how these images are associated with our thinking, most of it done as dream analysis," Takahata continued to explain in a soothing tone of voice. "Let me ask you, for instance... what do you envy about birds?"

Ranma blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Uh, birds? Well, it's kinda cool they can fly and all," she admitted easily. A shadow crossed her features for a moment, as she continued to think on it, "I suppose being able to fly means you can go anywhere you want, anytime you want."

Having expected that from reading the writeup on Ranma's life, the graying man nodded. "Freedom, you mean?"

"Yeah. Yeah, pretty much," Ranma admitted with a slight smile. "I think I see what you mean."

"Your obligations and those things chaining you to this or that course were stifling," Takahata observed, pressing his glasses back into place. "The Dean looked into what he could, and the number of commitments made against you were staggering. Desiring freedom on any level would be understood. Being already powerful by your own observation and proof, but still lacking the ability to free yourself from those bonds, one could say that Jusendo simply gave you a means to do so. It gave you something your mind associated with freedom."

Ranma's smile vanished as quickly as it had come. "Yeah, but it cost me my humanity. I mean, I can't even go out in public unless I seal myself down to the bedrock."

"What would you do with that power, though?" The teacher questioned, halting Ranma's rant. "Do you need that kind of potential, day to day? For what?"

Her desire to argue faded, and she nodded slowly. "I see. I guess."

Takahata offered her a smile. "That's the trial all mages go through, every day. Not what to use their power for, but how _not_ to use it, frivolously.

"Now, lets talk about why we don't jump up to second-story windows, just to avoid tardy bells," the man continued in a more serious tone.

Ranma sighed, sinking into her chair slightly.

–

"Good afternoon, Saotome-san," Konoka chirped to the somewhat worn looking redhead after class. The cheerful girl wondered at the other young woman's state, having not recalled anything quite that trying during their lessons that day, so offered her one of the small boxes of juice she usually kept on hand for Yue. Sometimes the other girl would forget them, during their occasional trips as part of the Library Expedition Club.

Ranma took the small box with a wry grin. "Thanks, and it's just Ranma," she reminded the smiling Konoka.

"Oh, sorry," she replied, bobbing a slight bow. Watching as the rest of the class filed out, and paying attention to a few particular people, the young woman's expression fell by a few degrees. "Are you still able to speak with me?"

Pushing herself off the wall she'd been learning on, the redhead nodded. "Sure thing. I'm just heading up toward the resort section, closer to the mountains nearby."

Konoka blinked in surprise, "That far?"

Ranma shrugged, "Well, it's for a job. The campus can't officially hire students our age, but there's no rule like that for off-campus businesses. Besides, everything close by is either working in a restaurant or something else silly," she replied with a grin. "Worked in that before. Getting your meals free is nice, but I want a change."

"I suppose that makes sense," Konoka agreed pleasantly. "Though I like Lingshen-san's nikuman, working there as well as eating them during the day..."

"They are good, but yeah. Too much, too much," the redhead agreed with a laugh. "Though, seeing Ku Fei's opinion on them first-hand, best not to say that around her."

Konoka nodded emphatically at that.

The two lapsed into an easy silence from there, as they made their slow way toward the mountains that made up one of the borders of Mahora's campus. It was a real testament to how influential and vast the Academy was, realizing that distant place was part of the actual school as well. "I just don't get it," Ranma muttered, as they entered the inn and hotel district.

"Mm? Get what, Sao-er. Ranma-san?"

"This," the redhead indicated their surroundings with a sweeping gesture. "All this place. Why does the Academy need temporary housing like this? How can they need enough to keep these businesses running? It doesn't make sense."

"Oh, it does, when you know how big Mahora really is," the cheerful young woman countered. "The Academy isn't just a local high school for girls, after all. There's a boy's campus, and the grades run from lowest, all the way to specialized private college classes." Ranma took hold of the girl's shoulder, guiding her away from a small stream of water crossing the street as someone cleaned their sidewalk. It amused her that her companion could get so caught up in her explanation that she'd become so oblivious. "Grandfather has recently tried to open Mahora to transfer students as well, though with limited success. There is a lot of tension between the Kantō and Kansai regions, in such things."

Ranma noted Konoka's sudden melancholy, though it wasn't hard to miss. She imagined those moods on the Dean's granddaughter were like seeing typhoons over the desert, with her usual demeanor. Curious that she mentioned the local Magical Associations though, "...is there something about that, that bothers you?"

"Mm, I'm from Kyoto," the young woman stated. "Well, my mother is from the Kantō region, and my father from Kyoto. I spent most of my childhood there, with a friend..."

If pain had a flavor, Ranma imagined what Konoka was feeling would remind him of okonomiyaki. "Did you have to leave that friend?"

Konoka nodded sadly. "Grandfather asked that I begin attending Mahora, like my mother did. Father... wasn't pleased by that. He said a traditional education would have been best for me. He asks me often if grandfather has had me learn anything strange, sometimes." Konoka laughed suddenly at that, "I don't understand, really. School is a place where you learn new things, right? In that way, almost everything could be strange."

With a grin that seemed infectious, Ranma nodded. "Suppose so," she agreed. To herself, she noted that Konoka was either in the dark about the strife between the regions and their reason, or was involved and knew, and being a good little mage and keeping it under her hat. Wanting more information, she asked about this friend again.

"She... I think I did something wrong, but I don't know what," Konoka admitted after a long pause. "She became cold. To everything it seemed, not just me. Then, when I came to Mahora, I lost touch with her.

"I was so happy when she arrived here too some time later... but she was even worse," she muttered, fidgeting unhappily at the hem of her uniform vest. "She won't talk to me at all, and I just can't figure it out."

"Yeah, if she won't talk with you, and you can't seem to relate, then that's a big problem," Ranma agreed, not unaffected by the girl's sadness. "Not much you can do, unless you have some common friends as well, to ask."

Konoka shook her head slowly. "No. She was my first friend, and one of the only ones I was allowed, back in Kyoto."

Ranma fixated on that word. "Allowed?"

The young woman blushed brightly. "Ah, auu... I shouldn't have said that."

The martial artist paused, reaching out to turn the girl so they faced one another. "Explain this 'allowed' thing, Konoe-san."

Slumping, Konoka hesitantly did so, relaying that her father was an important politician in the Kansai region, and that the marriage of her parents was a very political thing. Oh, they loved each other now, but it was something more akin to what one would read in period books from earlier eras in history, rather than something current. Because of the enemies either family had at a given time, she was kept under strict security, and visitors were few and far between. Halfway through, Ranma decided that Konoka was truly out of the loop – if she saw the reasons why the two regions were in conflict, a lot of her own uncertainty wouldn't exist, and she wasn't faking it.

Konoka finally gave a name for her friend – Setsuna Sakurazaki. "You mean the girl with her hair cut in a hime-style, tied up on one side?"

"Mm, yes, that's her," Konoka affirmed as they rounded a corner. "It was another reason I wanted to speak with you, actually..."

Ranma blinked at that. "Ah, I'm not sure I know either of you well enough to act as a mediator-"

"Oh, no, not that!" The other girl squeaked, waving her hands in a negative. "I-I just well... what you did this morning... that reminded me of something I saw, spying on Secchan, once."

Ranma noted that, filing it away for later. After a moment, the face clicked in her mind and she frowned at having missed it before. Setsuna had been there when she was demonstrating her ki before the Dean. She had been the younger of the the two kenshi. Ranma stifled a self-depreciating laugh. "Well, one supposed martial artist identified and confirmed," she noted to herself.

"I suppose I was wondering how you did that, and if... if maybe there was some reason when she was training in such things, she'd suddenly start hating me," Konoka concluded in a small tone.

Seeing Konoka's distress, Ranma buried her own misgivings, and gave the smaller girl a hug, "Hey, it's alright," she soothed, patting the other girl on the back lightly. To her mild horror, it was like she triggered the floodgates, and the girl in her arms started to shake and sob quietly. Not the best at emotional displays, Ranma wasn't exactly in a posture that would seem comforting, but if anything, she was one to make an effort if she put her mind to it. Crying girls were just not something one ran across often, so practicing how to comfort them wasn't much of an option.

"Hey, hey, I'm sure it's not all that bad," she offered the quietly crying Konoka. "Here, let sit down over by that trellis, and I'll tell you about a friend of mine, that your story reminded me of. Just give me a sec, to return a favor real fast."

Quick as she could – without ki – Ranma dashed to a nearby cafe to get them some tea, and a small to-go platter of sweet crackers. She returned with a lightly damp napkin, for Konoka to wash her face with. "Here you go," she offered, sitting the small snack between them. She was rewarded with a bright, if watery, smile in return. "Well, this may not sound like such a good story to start with, but hang with me, alright?

"A long time ago, I went to an all bo-" she snapped her mouth shut, almost forgetting Konoka didn't know about her curse. It was so common-place in Nerima, that she'd almost gotten used to it being common knowledge.

"An all-wha?" Konoka asked blinking in confusion.

"Oh, it was a school like Mahora," Ranma offered lamely with a nervous laugh. "But anyway, uh... right. My friend went there too. We got along pretty well, being interested in the same stuff," she elaborated, leaving out the details. Eating and fighting weren't much but for Ranma, it had been enough to count, with the little social contact Genma had allowed. "One day, my Pop decided we were going to travel and train some more – we did that a lot really, since I could walk in fact – and that I had to say goodbye to my friend.

"I wasn't too happy about it," Ranma admitted quietly, wringing her hands, recalling some memories associated with the person in question. "I was planning on talking with hi... with them about it, but things didn't work out." The redhead looked up toward the sky, shaking her head slowly. "Should've made Pops wait. In the end, they followed me on my trip."

Konoka brightened a bit, but faltered when she noted Ranma's bitter expression. "Was... was that bad?"

Ranma laughed quietly. "The worst. Ryo... Ryo couldn't keep up with the pace we set," she explained, managing to avoid the Lost Boy's name barely. "We ended up in this awful place in China, with curses all over the place. Something happened, and while I was chasing Pops, I ended up knocking Ryo off a path," Ranma shook her head at the memory. She still kept her word though, refusing to mention Ryoga's curse, or the fact he actually had one, despite what she alluded to. "That bonehead ended up blaming me, not that I disagreed later. But Ryo kept on chasing us, getting more and more upset since they couldn't quite keep up, and bad things kept happening.

"Eventually, we came back to Japan to settle down, but by then my friend was so angry they attacked me on sight. Ryo claimed I'd ruined their life, 'made them see hell', and that they'd kill me for it," the redhead related with a wistful grin, confusing a wide-eyed Konoka. "I didn't get what was up for a while. We fought like cats and dogs, for like... two years. Eventually Ryo calmed down, and we managed to get our issues sorted out. Ryo started seeing me as the friend I'd always seen them as, and we stopped fighting." Head tilting a bit, Ranma laughed. "Well, almost stopped. We still spar now then... well, we used to," she muttered, looking away with a frown, her mirth dying away.

"Anyway!" Ranma shook her melancholy off, shaking her head so hard her braid whipped about madly. "The point is, we just had to work our issues out. Maybe you two could do the same. I mean, if Ryo and me can get our act together, you can easy. Just don't let her get away, I suppose. Chase her down, make her talk!" Slapping a fist into her hand, Ranma nodded sharply. "Take a lesson from Ryo! If Sakurazaki-san won't listen, then beat some sense into her!"

Konoka stared wide-eyed at the young woman beside her, before laughing quietly. "Oh, Ranma-san, I couldn't... I've never trained like you or her. But I'll take your advice. I'll definitely get an answer! I won't give up on my precious friend!"

"That's the spirit!"

There was an amused laugh and quiet clapping from behind them, causing Ranma to startle and turn slightly. "Quite the story, there," a woman around her twenties in a pink kimono under a red hanten jacket trimmed in black commented. She smiled at the pair, leaning against the trellis nearby with a small fan in her hand causing her bangs, cut in a style similar to Miyazaki's, to drift occasionally. "I think I like you, Red-chan."

Ranma blinked, before tilting her head curiously. "'Red-chan'? Do I know you?"

"Whoops, my mistake," the woman commented in a slightly husky voice, reminding Ranma of Nabiki for a moment. "If you two would, follow me for a moment, and I'll make my introduction. It'll make sense, I promise."

Giving each other a wary look, the two schoolgirls shrugged, before following the woman in the red merchant's jacket back toward a break in the wall the trellis covered. It was only as they neared the traditionally-styled building that Ranma noted the kanji on the woman's back. "'Bara'," she muttered, suddenly darting her eyes left and right to confirm her suspicions. All around – in fact, on the trellises they'd been near earlier as well – were roses on vines and bushes, lining the walk and up against the building's sides.

Standing to the side of the entrance way to building, the twenty-something woman coughed into her hand, before sweeping aside the hanging-cloth sign nearest her as it draped across the doorway. "For those who have traveled far, and need to refresh themselves," she began, moving to the other side of the doorway with a flourish. "For couples who want to rekindle the fires of their passion," the woman declared in a smoky voice, her fan obscuring her face, her eyes peering above it half-lidded. She stepped to the center, offering Ranma and Konoka a deep bow, her demeanor returning to normal. "Please consider our humble inn, if you are in Kantō for an onsen trip, the Baraen-sō!"

Chuckling to herself, Ranma offered some small applause while grinning at the woman. "I'm guessing you're Nonohara-san? Manager of the Rose Garden Villa?"

"And you would be Saotome-san, my only, lonely referral from that Chinese food-obsessed secretary at the employment office," the woman identified as Nonohara commented with a wry grin. Turning to the other young woman present, she raised a brow. "Ara, I only recall getting one referral – did you bring another in on your own? Good incentive, Saotome-san."

Konoka blushed and offered the woman a smile, "Ah, no... I'm just walking with Ranma-san on her way here-"

"Hmm," Nonohara mused, getting up in the young woman's face with a contemplative look, causing Konoka to blink and stutter. "You have the aura of someone who'd make an excellent hostess," she mused, rubbing at her chin. Nonohara nodded a few times sagely, crossing her arms before her. "Yep. It's decided. You're hired."

"Auu...?"

Ranma looked back and forth between the two in confusion, before pointing to herself. "Ah. Well, that is..."

The onsen manager stared at the redhead before laughing heartily. "Oh of course, of course," she nodded, laying an arm around Ranma's shoulders. "You came for an interview. Now, this one here," she indicated, Konoka with her fan, "has the air of Yamato Nadeshiko about her. Such a refined, delicate beauty, one feels more graceful and at ease just for being around her," the manager noted, ignoring the fierce blush her compliment caused to bloom across Konoka's cheeks.

"You, on the other hand," Nonohana mused, staring down at the petite redhead so intently that Ranma had no choice but to look away slightly from intensity of her gaze. "Yes, _that_, right there. You've the air of a maiden, but the bearing of a samurai about you. Proud and innocent, strong but with inner fragility.

"I got no idea what to do with you," the woman admitted with a flick of her fan. "Didn't you apply for a man's position here?"

Ranma coughed into her hand, regaining her equilibrium from the odd woman's observations. "Well, yes. You see I'm a martial artist, so labor isn't a-"

"You're hired."

The redhead's mouth continued to move for a moment silently, before she shook her head hard. "Wh-What? Just like that?"

"Just like that," Nonohara affirmed with a nod.

"..._why the hell just like that?_"

Nonohara laughed again, sounding more like a captain at sea on her ship, as the waves battered at her impotently during a storm. "Spirit! That tale you told your friend to cheer her up! You, Saotome-san, have something inns like the Baraen-sō need. Someone worldly, who's seen love and pain, who's walked the roads of distant countries, smelled foreign roses, and come home to tell the tale!" Draping her arm across the young woman's shoulder, she guided her on a meandering walk through the inn, a curious Konoka trailing behind.

"Here at the Bara, we mostly cater to couples, who's lives may not be the most peaceful. We strive to give them not only quiet and comfort, but the subtle spark to reignite their passions!" Passing an empty dining room, Nonohara kicked the shōji door wide with a slipper-clad foot. "Succulent foods! Lush atmosphere! Only the presence of those who subtly add to that electric potential in the air, to witness it!"

Rushing the redhead up to one of the inn's rooms, she again opened the door, only this time with as slow, sultry deliberation. "An intimate room, furnished for a couple's desires, for them to retreat to so sate their lusts, or desire for simple time alone," she declared in a voice better suited to a Madame. Both teens blushed brightly at the less-than-subtle declaration. Guiding the captive pair back to the main floor, she pulled a wary Ranma through another slitted curtain.

At the high-fenced onsen, Nonohara dipped a dainty foot into the steaming water, "Heat and intimacy, these are the foundations on which the Baraen-sō was founded. Here, passion and lust are tempered by the waters of our spring into something lasting and resounding." Taking Ranma by the shoulders, she spun the redhead around as she twirled across the damp stone.

"The centerpiece of our inn is the onsen! Here, the real work is done, as we offer privacy and service in a careful balance. Our hostesses assist the guests with sake and washing, before standing nearby behind the barest curtains for modesty, to be called upon for what needs arise," Nonohara declared, halting suddenly while giving her captive a final twirl, as if setting a dancing partner to the floor.

Ranma never stumbled, simply bleeding off momentum while skimming her left foot across the stones to regain her balance. When her mad spinning ended, she stood facing the inn's manager with a raised brow. "Um-"

"And since you're a martial artist, there's no worry of you slipping here while working and cleaning, and charging me an arm and leg in insurance premiums," the manager stated in a suddenly normal tone, snapping her fan open as she drew it from a sleeve. "Congratulations, our new Miss Onsen Manager! And, that's the tour!"

Konoka and Ranma found themselves suddenly back out in front of the inn-onsen, their arms full of uniform kimonos in pink with white obi sashes, along with the same red and black hanten Nonohara was wearing. To their side was the same bench they'd sat at briefly, and to their backs was the rose-wound trellis Ranma had missed initially.

"Au, what just happened...?"

Ranma wet her lips, and looked up at the sky in contemplation. "I... I think we just got conscripted into working at some kind of couple's inn by a crazy woman."

Konoka sighed in resignation. "That's what I thought."

–

The next day passed without much fanfare, though to some of 3-A, it was clear things were changing in subtle ways. For one, the new student arrived with Konoka, chatting amicably between themselves, rather than accompanying Asuna and Negi who arrived somewhat later than usual. Their perplexed expressions seemed fixed on the bantering Konoe and Saotome, as they chatted quietly near the back of the class.

Another change seemed to take root in that same redhead, who it turned out was quite the academic. Now, outward appearances and the truth were confusing here, as Ranma really wasn't quite as smart as everyone assumed she was... rather, she was dealing with material technically two years lower than she was used to.

Rumors came and went, with the usual speed around a girl's school, but at least this time they were positive, Ranma noted with a smile. A few weren't directed at her, however. One of such Ranma heard, was about some events surrounding a perverted ermine that had run amok in the bath belonging to the dorm most of 3-A called home. Oddly, during a break Konoka told her quite a lot about Negi's new pet, who also happened to be a white ermine. Recalling the morning's class, Ranma vaguely remembered the diminutive teacher having something on his shoulder, but truthfully most of her attention was taken up by Eva, who seemed somewhat amused and more talkative than usual.

Though she wasn't happy that Ranma had gotten a job despite needing a tutor, she didn't make much of a fuss, saying they would just need to schedule later meetings. This turned out to actually be better for both of them, as Eva admitted she rather liked her Go and Tea Ceremony clubs, and didn't want to cut her time there. Dubious still that she could gain anything from dealing with the blonde suspected vampire, Ranma set up a time in the next few days to go and visit, agreeing hesitantly to contact Chachamaru if she needed to change their set time in the event of conflicts with work. Time would tell if she could gain anything of use from Eva, but if it would lead to a solution for her problems stemming from Jusendo, she was more than open to putting aside her grudge against magic. She'd worked beside enemies before – this would be no different.

Another lunch was spent with Takahata, this time discussing the more theoretical side of ki, and how there were distinct differences in the energies one could find and work with, outside of simple gross manipulation. Takahata used a number of references, one being the difference of ki found in say, a graveyard and a pristine forest glen. Ranma felt that the comparison was obvious, but the gray-haired teacher went on to explain how and why those differences in ki occurred, and what it meant to someone like her who was at once sensitive to ki and who had the potential to shape and focus it both internally and externally. Discussion moved to debating the Wuxing and Godai elemental systems, and how they related to internal energies on a symbolic and literal level, which was something Takahata found to his surprise that Ranma was already well versed on. The redhead happily explained that much of her time on the road was spent in temples and among other practitioners of the Art, and such theories and ideas were as basic to her as the alphabet to others.

Over a meal of Chao's meat-buns, the two discussed ki theory nearly up until second bell, and to Ranma it felt more like a pair of contemporaries hashing out ideas, than a teacher-student situation. It was a difference she found most agreeable, and also more productive than what she'd dealt with before. Rather than just throwing ideas at her for her to memorize and regurgitate, Takahata allowed her to think on her own, and come to her own conclusions, while he voiced views, rather than facts. After that session, she thanked the man for his time and with a smile, asked when they'd be able to continue.

Thus, Ranma's lunches were from then-on to be held with Takamichi Takahata, catching up and working with the man on ki and onmyōdō practice and theory.

–

AN: A cookie for whoever can guess the reference-source for Nonohara and the Baraen-sō.


	5. Chapter 5

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

–

Chapter Five

–

Ranma had been enjoying what to her had been a wonderful day. Her grades were so-far sitting in the top ten-percent of the class – an utter turnaround from her usual performance, thanks to covering what to her was old material. She would be higher if her focus in maths could be sharpened, which was something to look into Ranma grudgingly allowed. Her lessons, which seemed more like small companionable meetings with Takamichi Takahata, were really helping her with her ki and onmyōdō, and to top the day off, she and Konoka were going to get together and walk to work that night, maybe stopping off to get a bite to eat on the way. The Dean's granddaughter had mentioned that there was an ice cream parlor on the way to the Baraen-sō, and Ranma was seriously in the mood for a sundae as tall as she was.

Even her future plans were pleasant. Tomorrow she was planning on starting the morning with a workout session on the roof her apartment, something she'd cleared with the landlady. Said woman had pointed out that as long as she kept the space clean and maybe helped tidy it up, it was free to use whenever, which Ranma planned to exploit severely. Hopefully her idea for the rooftop space would also get her a rent cut. She also wanted to summon Suzumebachi for lunch and the afternoon's meeting with Eva, to introduce her Shikigami to her tutors. Supposedly, at least according to Takahata, there was a way to increase such a summon's power using Western techniques despite it being a primarily Eastern discipline. Ranma really enjoyed having her vicious little Bee around, so the redhead decided that she'd see what could be done to extend the usually day-long limit on the wasp spirit's contract, if she was also willing.

To top it off, both Takahata and Eva were actually teaching her new techniques, though admittedly, the diminutive blonde wanted to see Ranma's male form to get a gauge on the difference in magic potential between the two genders. She would accommodate the young girl, but didn't know how long the attempt would last. The curse could be fickle and annoying at times, when one wanted to spend time in a single form. Luckily for her – though the idea Ranma considered it as such would send some of her past associates into a panic, thinking it the end of the world – the change from her first trip to Jusendo which caused the trigger-temperature to rise drastically also kept changes from female to male almost nonexistent. She'd need contact with nearly boiling water in some quantities to change, and that was an accident that even Jusenkyo magic couldn't fabricate out of most circumstances. She countered it by spending most of her afternoons at home male, balancing herself and the time between forms, in sleep and idleness. It had worked quite well so far, as evidenced by a fairly pleasant lack of accidental splashing or attempted splashing since she began the new routine.

So, one can understandably relate to why a disheveled redhead in a pink kimono was glaring balefully at her classmate Asuna Kagurazaka, as the two faced off that afternoon, on her way to the Baraen-sō.

Or, perhaps one needed to back up about an hour, as Konoka and Ranma left the school on their way to the Baraen-sō early enough to get something to eat – and subsequently notice Konoka's roommates stalking an oblivious Chachamaru.

–

"Are you _sure_ she meant that I was hired as well?" Konoka's question reached Ranma through the door to the spacious supply closet attached the classroom. They had requisitioned it as a space to change in, seeing as they were planning on spending some time on the way to the onsen getting food and generally just getting to know one another better, as they were now coworkers.

Ranma rolled her eyes, chuckling at the anxiety clear in the meek girl's tone. "Yeah, Konoka-chan, I'm sure. Nonohara-san seemed rather enthused, and you did end up with the same uniform as me, after all." Though Ranma wondered why her's was small enough to force the redhead into showing more than the usual amount of cleavage. Sure, she knew she was built very well for her age – according to Shiina Sakurako, the blonde cheerleader who had been assisting Ako with the health exams – as she happened to have one of the top five bust measurements in 3-A, but to show it off at a couple's onsen... Well, Ranma had some reservations about her kimono – no hotel pun intended. "'Sides, I think you'd make a great hostess," she sent back, tying off her obi after improvising some more coverage by wrapping her bust with sarashi instead of a bra, completely missing the curious looks she got from passing students looking through the classroom windows at her casual display of skin.

"You really think so?"

"Wouldn't say so otherwise," Ranma remarked, as her coworker finally shuffled from the closet. The redhead whistled low, with a grin. "My, don't you clean up nice."

Konoka blushed at the compliment. "Auu, well. It's a nice kimono..."

Ranma waved her modesty away, "None of that, none of that," she chided, standing before the other girl with her hands on her shoulders, peering at her critically. She noted, among other things, that Konoka was only a few centimeters shorter than she was but most of her focus was on the other girl's hair. Tapping her chin, the martial artist produced a pair of lacquered chopsticks and a comb from her ki-space, causing Konoka's eyes to widen slightly. "Where did-"

"Tell you about it on the way," she commented distractedly, spinning the girl around to work on her hair. "She was right, you know. Put you in a kimono, and you're pretty much instant princess material," the redhead idly stated, her hands flying through complex styling maneuvers in a blur. One more benefit of constant contact with insane Chinese Amazons for over two years, she mused to herself. That, and she could make a mean bowl of ramen when pressed.

Finishing her work, Ranma nodded to herself smartly. Konoka's long hair had been gathered into a braid, then whorled into a bun, set in place by the chopsticks. She made a note to get the girl a more decorative pair if she liked the style, later. She left her bangs alone, figuring they framed her face nicely with the small locks Ranma left free from before her ears. The effect brought the slighter girl's neck into focus, where normally her hair would have obscured it – and she had a very lovely neck, Ranma had to admit. Producing a mirror she'd tucked away that morning, she held it in front of the girl, grinning from behind her shoulder. "Like?"

Konoka blinked a few times, then took hold of the mirror eagerly to inspect Ranma's work. "Oh... my. This is me?"

"Just a little change can do a lot," the redhead affirmed with a nod. "You don't have the hime-cut, but still just leaving those locks before your ears free, it gives a nice effect," Ranma observed. "Plus, it won't get in the way. Don't know what Nonohara is going to have us doing, but this way you won't have to worry about it much."

Grinning happily, the smaller girl spun and gave her impromptu stylist a hug. "Thank you, this is lovely."

Blushing at the contact, Ranma laughed nervously, "Ah, ehe, it's nothing, really."

Pulling back, the Dean's granddaughter eyed the redhead critically. "What about you, though? Not that there's anything wrong with a simple braid..."

Waving Konoka's concern off, Ranma shook her head. "I may tie it up in a ponytail, if the boss gets antsy, but I don't like it down. Too much hassle."

The smaller girl hummed in thought. "Why not cut it, then?"

Ranma considered that honestly for a moment, having entertained similar thoughts in the past. The bottom line was always the same however – she needed it long enough to tie with the Dragon's Whisker, to prevent it growing completely out. Her short braid was about where it became possible, without seeming too long as a boy. Though, she had to admit, she had the perfect styling cheat in the event she ever wanted longer hair – just shift into her male form, and take the Whisker out for a few minutes.

To Konoka, the redhead shrugged noncommittally. "I've just always worn it this way. I might change it some day, but not today," she concluded, tucking both their schoolbags away in the same manner she did her comb and mirror. Seeing her coworker's expression, Ranma chuckled, "I promise I'll tell you on the way. Now, c'mon. We don't want to miss out on ice cream!"

"I'm beginning to wonder if that's one of your vices," Konoka commented with a grin.

Ranma rolled her eyes, as she closed the classroom door behind them. "One of them, yeah," she muttered, resettling her kimono with a huff. "The next one on the list is impatience. Let's _go_."

–

Konoka stared in open shock at the petite figure beside her, as she systematically decimated her own body-mass in sundaes. "Wow, this place is awesome," Ranma happily chirped as she faded into another blur of whirling confectionery doom.

What boggled the slight young woman most, perhaps, was how the redhead managed to _get_ her apparently required intake of ice cream. "How... what?" She blinked owlishly for a moment in thought. "Are you a Jedi or something?"

"A what?" Ranma asked between bites. "Is that some kind of Catholic? If so – no. More Shinto than anything."

"I... nevermind," Konoka sighed, focusing on her own double-scoop of strawberry with whip cream. To her, this was splurging... she peered at Ranma again, noting how utterly blissed-out the redhead seemed. She was beginning to understand one of the fundamental truths of her classmate and coworker – Ranma Saotome did nothing by half measures. "So... what do you think the Baraen-sō is like? I mean, what will we be doing?"

Tapping her lips with her spoon, Ranma considered the question for a moment, as the shop's proprietor seemed to be coming around from his lust-cute-combo attack induced stupor. "Not sure. As a hostess, I guess it'll be a lot like at a restaurant. You'll show people to their rooms, maybe give directions, and possibly direct some of the activities." She waved her spoon about like a conductor. "Maybe make schedules for them, so people don't end up being in the onsen at the same times."

"Why would that be a bad idea?"

Ranma smile cracked slightly. How to break it to the cutely innocent Konoka that likely before the night was through, they'd have likely at least heard, if not seen, a couple having sex? "Ah, well... you see, these places usually book times so people have privacy. Being a couple's resort and all."

Konoka nodded, finishing her own bowl of dessert slowly. "I see. That does seem more complicated. I'm almost glad though – I'd hate to be bored at a job."

Of that, Ranma had no concerns, she admitted. Likely, she and Konoka would be rather entertained, in one way or another, for the rest of the evening.

Ranma was fairly sure her current train of thought would shock most of those she'd left in her wake, coming to Mahora. After all, few knew that she wasn't quite the clueless moron about sex most of Nerima thought her to be. Frankly, she pushed that image as something she and her father came up with, to keep the secondary arrangements in a kind of holding pattern. After all, how would any of them react, if she – as a male of course – responded to one of the girls she was engaged to in a sexual way? The first result would be that everyone else would turn on that person, and with the Joketsuzoku being their usual selves, someone may actually end up dead. Not something Ranma wanted on her conscience. Second, whichever fiancee she'd let her guard down with would be hauling her off to get married before the end of the day. Then there was Ranma's own feelings, which were something of a jumble on the best of days.

She had really liked Akane, maybe even loved her, but the lack of trust and refusal to hear her side of things made it so much a moot point – she would not become another Kuno, pining after the youngest Tendo without any hope of reciprocation. Ukyo was pretty and trustworthy – for the most part – but she still couldn't see her that way. Maybe she needed more time, but then again, 'good ol'Ucchan' had been one of the first to change her tune once Ranma's curse started acting up in a more permanent manner. Apparently, overexposure to Konatsu had caused her tolerance for girly-men to plummet recently. Shampoo was a bombshell – in both the figurative and literal sense. Touch her wrong, and your world would be over. Plus, Ranma felt she was justified in being wary – the Amazon had spent months trying to assassinate her, after all.

It wasn't that Ranma had no sexual urges – it was just that given her options in Nerima, celibacy was frankly safer for everyone. That wasn't to say she was still a virgin, however...

Ranma shook those memories off, a blush pinking her cheeks as the motion made her _mala_ clink merrily. "Ahem. You were saying something, Konoka-chan?"

The girl in question regarded her companion critically. "Are you alright, Ranma-san? You look a bit flushed."

"I'm fine!" The redhead squeaked, as she hastily returned her sundae dishes and trays to the store owner. "C'mon, lets get walking. We have a little more than an hour left, I think."

Konoka hummed, her expression clearly questioning. She'd missed something, during that conversation, but couldn't quite figure out what.

"Oi, Konoka-chan... isn't that the brat sensei and your roommate?"

Peering around, the Dean's granddaughter took in their surroundings quickly, looking for Negi and Asuna. She and Ranma were currently walking on one of the parallel paths that separated the lake where Library Island sat from the campus proper. Between those paths, rows of trees and flowering bushes were planted, to give each a more scenic feel. In a way, it resembled a more wild version of Sakura Lane, except for the nearby body of water. Movement in the trees nearby caught her attention, and she perked up, getting ready to call out a greeting when Ranma's hand covered her mouth. "Wait a sec. They're acting... odd."

After a moment, Konoka had to agree. "Who are they spying on?"

Ranma hummed in thought, before nodding. "Lets find out. Something's been bugging me about that kid since I got here, and this is a good way to find out more about him," she improvised. She'd actually put together from the Dean's notes and aside comments, along with those of Eva and Takahata, that Negi was something of a magic user. It was honestly beginning to irk her that she was surrounded by so much of the stuff, and though she tolerated and somewhat enjoyed Eva's scathing wit and barbed humor, the brat-teacher left a bad taste in her mouth for some reason. Perhaps if she shadowed Negi while he spied on someone else, she'd figure something out, about that.

Well, other than the fact he stank of magic. That, she had to admit, may be all of it.

If nothing else, she could figure out who the kid thought was so interesting. With the way things were going, it may even be the blonde vampire, which would be amusing to watch. Did they get into fights often? Not that strange teachers were a new concept to Ranma, but this was something different, and not Nerima.

"Auu, Negi-sensei's not so bad..." Konoka defended weakly from Ranma's earlier comment, before firming her stance. "He tries very hard, and seems like a decent sort. All the other teachers believe in him, after all."

"Not saying anything bad about his teaching," Ranma countered, deflecting the argument. While doing so, she began maneuvering them into a position that formed something of a triangle between Negi and Asuna, themselves, and the other pair's quarry once they came into sight. "Just saying this is odd, and I had a weird feeling about him. Could mean anything."

Considering Ranma's words for a moment, Konoka had to admit, things had started seeming odd around Mahora since the young teacher arrived. First, that day where everyone seemed to want to get closer to him – herself included, embarrassingly enough – then that odd afternoon where she was dodging another omiai scheduled by her grandfather, where she could have sworn for a moment he was flying. She'd convinced herself easily enough it was something else, but the continued coincidences were beginning to wear her down, and seem more and more familiar.

Speaking of familiar, Konoka blinked as the lone person walking down the lane became visible. "Isn't that Karakuri-san?"

"Yeah, not much way to mistake Chachamaru-san for anyone else," Ranma agreed, eyes narrowing. "Though, I don't get what's up with Sensei and Asuna-san... hm. Lets get closer. I want to hear what they're saying."

It was at that point that a young girl nearby started crying, pointing at a tree where her balloon was stuck. Ranma was torn – for one, she'd be able to get the balloon without any trouble, but then again, she'd break her cover, watching the watchers.

"Ranma, look!" Konoka hissed, shaking the redhead's shoulder insistently.

Focusing on what was going on rather than her own thoughts, Ranma stared, then rubbed her eyes with her hand. "Um. Am I seeing things, or is Chachamaru flying? With rockets?"

Konoka's voice was flat as she responded. "Definitely flying."

"I mean, I kinda noticed she wasn't, well _normal_ the other night, but..."

"Well, she always did have odd marks... I guess those aren't just some cosplay makeup. Those really are doll joints," Konoka remarked in a distracted way.

Ranma shook off her errant thoughts. "C'mon, we're nearing a bridge. We need to move so the others don't see us."

Nodding, Konoka followed behind, now as curious as her companion. She was somewhat surprised at Ranma's skill at moving quietly through so much brush and leaves, though it was quickly filed under the 'more things to ask about later' heading in her mind. If she hadn't been following behind her, the Dean's granddaughter would have written her off as some kind of hallucination, with the lack of sound. Feeling the need to break the silence – not that her feet weren't doing their damnedest on their own – she whispered as they moved, "Maybe they were curious about that? I mean... most of us just think she's something of a cosplay otaku, with those odd ear-antennae... oh. That means those are real," Konoka mumbled. "Er. I mean. Seeing that she was really a robot. Android. Cyborg. Auu..."

Chuckling, Ranma took some comfort in the fact Konoka was as shook up as she was. "Don't worry about it," she soothed. "But I've got a little experience with stalkers, and they're not done yet. If you want to know what someone wants in a situation like this, you have to wait till they've made a move, or are satisfied with seeing something specific."

"It sort of worries me that you know that, Saotome-san," Konoka replied wryly.

"Two years dodging a few over-amorous fiancees with loose morals around violence, drugging me, and the occasional kidnapping make Ranma a quick study," the redhead in question answered in an offhand fashion, creeping under a branch by contorting herself till she was moving on all fours.

Konoka was beginning to wonder how that worked in a kimono, and how the redhead managed to keep it from looking like she'd been crawling nearly on the ground. "Is that another thing you're going to explain 'later'?"

Ranma grinned back to her, and winked. "Sure. Just get me another sundae. Under here," she guided, saving the less-experienced girl from dirtying her own clothes.

Shortly they were positioned to see Chachamaru's next good deed, though this time they could hear the discussion from those they were watching. Sadly, while the pseudo-female student was helping an old woman up some stairs, the spies were silent. It wasn't until the green-haired figure waded into the small river to save a cat that they spoke again.

"Wh-What the hell! She's a really good person, and popular with the townsfolk to boot!"

Negi nodded fervently at Asuna's declaration. "She's awesome!"

It was the third voice that neither had heard before that startled the two who spied on the spies, "No way! This may just be a trap to trick you into letting your guard down!"

Ranma looked down, at the tug on her sleeve. "Who was that?" Konoka hissed. "I only see Asuna-chan and Negi-sensei!"

"Dunno," Ranma muttered quietly, eyes narrowing as she followed the two figures before them. If she didn't know better... "Next stop, I'll tell you my theory. Watch that rodent, though."

"Negi-sensei's pet?" Seeing her companion nod, Konoka bit her lip, but stayed silent. She did just watch a classmate fly around with rockets from her feet and back. "Alright, but this is getting strange."

The martial artist snorted at that, "Should have lived in Nerima a while. Place has nothing on that madhouse."

For the time being, Konoka stifled the memories of things she'd pushed back since leaving Kyoto... but soon she'd need to address them. For the longest time she'd considered those fanciful days nothing but that – imagined play and childishness. Now though... some of what was going on reminded her starkly of some of the more unusual things she'd seen, and it was like a flood, refusing to be dammed again. More and more snippets of memory, small sights, odd things that she wrote off as imaginings kept jostling for attention that she couldn't spare them. Konoka sighed quietly, realizing it would likely be a very sleepless night.

Ranma sighed for a different reason. "Alright, she's alone in the square. If they're going to do anything, it'll be here."

"But, all she's doing is feeding some birds," Konoka argued, uncomprehending of the situation Ranma had been suspecting.

The martial artist's suspicions were confirmed shortly, as their quarry began speaking again. "She really is a wonderful person," Negi muttered from their cover by a wall, beside a touched Asuna.

Their reverie was shattered by that third voice, and both Konoka and Ranma saw the the ermine from earlier hop down and start flailing its little arms about while practically yelling in a man's voice, "Hey, just a minute there! She's the one targeting Negi-bro's life, right? Get your act together!

"There's no one watching, now! No witnesses or distractions! Here's your chance, so harden your hearts and take. Her. _Out!_"

Negi seemed unconvinced, "But..."

"I guess there's really no helping it," Asuna muttered, laying a hand on the child-mage's shoulder. "We should just do this and get it done," she urged, getting a hesitant nod from the young teacher.

Ranma had her hand across Konoka's mouth, a gentle hold on the girl as she struggled. "Calm down. I can handle this, but I need the initiative of surprise," she muttered into the captive girl's ear. "Do you understand? Gonna be quiet, and let me handle this?"

Konoka nodded, her eyes clouded in betrayal and anger. How could her own roommates be so... so _cold hearted?_ Chachamaru had done nothing worth that vermin's angry words, so why were Asuna and Negi thinking of harming her? She'd been part of their class since Junior High had begun – why was Asuna being like this now?

In the end, the only answer she could come up with stood short and holding a long staff, looking uncertain, yet still striding forward. They watched as the two parties exchanged words, though there was some confusion on the remaining spy's part, as Negi mentioned being targeted, and Chachamaru replied with a denial in changing her focus, citing a master.

"Chachamaru works for Eva-san," Ranma explained to the unsure Konoka. "Eva was given permission from your grandfather to test the brat somehow – I think he took it personal. I wasn't there. I do know that she wasn't allowed to go too far."

"What should we do?" Konoka whispered, biting her lip. Nothing was making any sense!

"Leave it to me," Ranma reiterated simply, as she unwound a length of her beaded bracelet, but kept it wrapped. "I'll handle it."

It was at this point that Negi began speaking in a different language, though Konoka recognized it from her lessons as Latin. At the end of it, Ranma felt a build and release of energy, forcing her to curse and blur into motion, as Asuna did so as well.

"Ras Tel Ma Scir Magister!"

The first exchange of blows went badly for Chachamaru, but Ranma made her entrance as the bell-haired Asuna prepared a wicked kick aimed for the artificial girl's midsection. Coming up behind Chachamaru, she spun her around, using the momentum to chamber and release a counter-kick that took Asuna's leg from under her, dropping her onto the ground. Ranma's second kick slammed the auburn-haired girl's stomach, causing her to retch and curl up on herself in pain.

From the side of the building nearby, that same heckling voice yelled out, "She's got backup! Quick, Aniki, take them out with one big spell before they can counterattack!"

Groaning and gritting his teeth, Negi followed the ermine's orders, yelling his incantation, "Saggita Magica Series Lucis!"

Ranma cursed as a barrage of magic bolts homed in on her, but didn't panic. Instead, she loosed the loop of beads in her hand, breaking her seal by a single magnitude. Pressure whipped out from around her, disturbing the dust along the ground in a small wave, as time seemed to contract about her. Ki was cycled through her chakras and slammed into her perception harshly, blooming like a spike of steel in her skull – it was a headache she'd deal with later. Ranma wasted nothing, taking every drop, every scrap of power she released and coiled like a snake into her limbs and reactions.

To an observer, Chachamaru and Ranma simply disappeared in the explosion of light and debris as the diminutive mage's attack hit, the young man too stunned by what he had done to do much else after. That illusion was broken as Ranma came out of her blurred motion near the treeline some distance away, settling Chachamaru on her feet with a grim cast to her face.

"Stay here," she ordered icily, before disappearing with a crack of displaced wind.

There was another muted snap of air being displaced behind the child mage, and he turned with wide eyes only to see the edge of a descending hand, cracking him across the temple to spin him into the ground mercilessly in a stunned heap.

The ermine gasped, betraying his position. "Aniki! Crap, at this rate I'm going to have to ru-ackptt!"

"Not today, vermin," Ranma muttered, holding the white-furred animal about the throat with an iron grip, as it tried to twist and bite at her fruitlessly. "Useless trash," she snarled, flicking it in the head to stun it. Turning her attention to the aborted battlefield from the rodent's hiding place, Ranma's glacial eyes met those of her first opponent, pinning the blue and green gaze of Kagurazaka where she wobbled to her feet.

Seeing that Negi was still reeling, and that the instigator was literally in hand, Ranma called to those who were currently out of the line of fire. "Konoka-san, Chachamaru-san... it's over. You can come out."

Asuna's heart sank, seeing the furious look on her friend and roommate's face. "Kono-chan, let me explai-"

"Explain?" The typically demure and cheerful girl nearly screamed, "Explain? Look at that!" She demanded, pointing to the crater left behind where Negi's spell had splashed down onto the ground. "That could have killed Chachamaru and Ranma!"

Kagurazaka winced at the incrimination, feeling more than a little foolish and guiltily panicked, now that Chamo's goading dialog was silenced. Still, Konoka didn't know all the facts, and she wasn't about to let it go on just appearances. "Kono-chan, listen! Chachamaru is working for a vampire! Eva's the one that attacked Makie, and she nearly got Honya-chan too, if it wasn't for Negi-kun!"

"Eva-san was working with the Dean's authority," Ranma interrupted with a tone that spoke of nothing but leashed cold rage. "She wasn't allowed to do lasting harm. You're telling me you and that snot-nosed brat decided to kill a classmate, without getting the facts?"

The redhead's cold assessment left Asuna wide-eyed and shaking. "W-What? The Dean? Kill? B-B-But she's just a robot!"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Konoka hissed, her eyes shut tight for a moment, before snapping open angrily in the direction of her roommate. "I just... _who are you?_" Walking up to Asuna, the incensed young woman got right up into the other girl's face. "Where did the kind-hearted Kagurazaka go? The one that cares enough about her rival to remember her important days? The one that helped a stuck-up brat from Kyoto fit in, when all she wanted to do was push people away? The girl that looks up to a man with honor and integrity, wanting to make him proud by being an example of the same thing?" she challenged, staring right back into Asuna's wide, mismatched eyes. "The Asuna-san I know wouldn't let something like _what_ Chachamaru was override two years of knowing _who_ she was. The Asuna-san I know would make her own decisions, and she wouldn't listen to a perverted rodent over common sense!"

Asuna flinched back from the verbal assault from the normally cheerful girl, feeling all the worse for being part of why she was so enraged. It just wasn't like the Konoka she knew to be so angry, so upset.

While Konoka berated Asuna, Ranma stood nearby, winding her _mala_ back around her wrist. She knew the situation wasn't as black and white as Konoka was making it out to be, but felt that Asuna could use a wake-up call. If she planned on playing with the kind of forces Ranma had seen the child-mage use, then the first thing she needed was a cold dose of reality to wash the veneer of amazement off. Magic wasn't a toy – it destroyed lives, bent people into twisted things. It was, in her mind, a living force that did nothing but pervert things around it, for some obscure sense of amusement.

Speaking of reality, the martial artist took a look back at the cratered pavement left behind from Negi's attack, her scowl deepening severely. "That... was entirely too close."

"Why did you protect me?"

Ranma turned toward Chachamaru after she spoke, the green-haired figure looking a little beaten but none the worse for wear. She considered the artificial girl's question a moment, before replying. "Because it wasn't a fair fight. Because I bet when you and Eva pushed him that night, you were teaching him a lesson, not trying to go all out," the redhead observed, eyes narrowed. "The kid's been thinking hard for the last few days, and I think he got the point, but that damn rodent..."

"Advisors sometimes do not give the best advice," the stoic girl replied in her usual lack of tone. "Regardless of his reasons, I would thank you."

Ranma shook her head. "It's fine. At least this time, he was in the wrong."

Chachamaru nodded, understanding Ranma's words for what they meant. "We will be on even ground from here out, now. He has found a partner."

"You mean that girl," Ranma jerked her thumb at a shame-faced Kagurazaka, who was still being dressed-down by a livid Konoka. "Asuna?"

The artificial girl nodded, "Much like my pact with Master, she is empowered by Negi's magic."

It took a moment, but once the idea settled, it sparked another wave of anger, burning through the redhead's heart. "I get it," Ranma muttered, her lip curling in distaste. "A free power-up, and she thinks she's something special," the redhead commented with a scorching look toward the girl who seemed to be locked into an emotional defensive against her friend. Shaking her head in disgust, Ranma moved back to where everyone was gathered, more or less. "Konoka, that's enough," she interrupted, a steady hand on the angry girl's shoulder. Mouth set in a tight line, the young woman looked as if she'd continue anyway, but nodded once instead. In her place, Ranma began speaking, "Want you to make sure you understand me, Kagurazaka. You try this kind of stunt again, I'll put you down, _hard_."

Never one to back down from a confrontation, Asuna found her resolve returning now that Konoka's focus was elsewhere. "You just got a cheap shot in! Don't butt into things that don't concern you!"

Despite her smaller stature, Ranma seemed to loom suddenly over Asuna, "Luck? Little girl, you're at least a decade too early to even come near me. I don't need magic tricks to put a snot-nosed little punk like you in the ground," she snarled forcing the cowed girl back a step from the sheer ferocity of her expression.

"And you," she turned toward a recovering Negi, who gripped his staff as he shook off the blow that had put him on the ground. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing? Attacking a student with the intent to at least do major damage, if not kill?"

"Saotome-san, you don't know-"

"Yeah, yeah," the redhead cut him off, slashing her hand through the air angrily. "Eva's a vampire, they're ganging up on me, woe is me!" She ceased her mocking, fixing the stunned boy with a glare. "So, if she was such an issue, why didn't you go to the Dean?"

Negi flinched at Ranma's mocking tone. "S-She said she'd attack more students if I went for help..."

Ranma threw her arms up in exasperation, before rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "When have all the 'attacks' on Sakura Lane happened?"

The child-mage looked confused for a moment, before shrugging, "On full moon nights, the rumor said. Why?"

"How did this kid get to be a teacher," she muttered to herself, having researched this herself briefly in the hopes of maybe finding some truth to the rumors, that wasn't Eva. Nothing like monster hunting to round out a workout, after all. What she'd found, was that the rumors were started the month before – there had been no other attacks. Makie was the first, and there had been no others since. Going with a hunch, she voiced her thoughts, "So, it happened on a full moon. And not since. Didn't that tell you anything? So explain how Eva-san could continue to attack people if she's limited to three days in a month... much less continue to attend Mahora? And why hasn't she done so before? Did you even look into her records, since you have access to them with your position? Or even research this – false I should point out – rumor?"

Realization dawned on the diminutive teacher's face at the flood of questions, as he grew pale suddenly. "...a bluff?"

"A test," Chachamaru corrected, speaking for the first time since before the fight. "To see if you were mature enough to seek out help when over-matched, of if you would endanger yourself, and by proxy, those around you if pressed."

"But I got a partner," Negi tried to argue, his voice cracking with his failing composure, now that the fighting was done and his mind re-engaged. Without adrenaline to fuel him, and the fight itself to keep his thoughts from the reality of what he was doing, all of the child-mage's actions were coming down on his shoulders, hard.

Ranma narrowed her eyes at the boy. "You talked a Jr. high school girl into being your shield," she accused bluntly, causing Negi to wince and Asuna to cry out in protest. "So tell me, _Sensei_," she asked, putting barbed emphasis on the title, "what would you have done, had you killed Chachamaru? Did you think about this supposed plan at all?"

"Killed? But I-" Rather than let him rationalize himself free of guilt, Ranma bent down and picked the slight figure up by his jacket, turning him by her hold on the back of his collar to see the crater his spell had left in the pavement. Negi's protest died in his throat. "...I see."

"Hey!" Asuna butted in, pulling Negi from Ranma's grip roughly, before stabbing a finger into the kimono-clad girl's chest. "Who do you think you are? I said before this has nothing to do with you!" Meeting the girl's glare with an impassive look, Ranma pulled out her school ID, which sat opposite of her campus credentials. As the auburn-haired girl registered what was before her, she slumped, "W-What? Special Security?"

Ranma's ear twitched. She ignored the girl as she spun on her heel, a pulsing orb of red-black forming in her left palm with a sudden crackling hum, as she faced down a sweating and wide-eyed Chamo. "Put the lighter down, vermin, before I do the world a favor and _end you_."

The ermine dropped the flash-bang firework and his lighter without comment, backing away from them slowly. "Ah, ahehe, c'mon now, sister, we can talk this out..."

"Don't talk to me in such a familiar way," Ranma spat, the orb of virulent ki in her hand fluxing dangerously with a faint howl. "Most of this is your fault for pushing them! What does a mage need a perverse little piece of trash like you around for, anyway, huh?"

She jerked her hand away, letting the ki dissipate to nothing as Negi tackled the ermine, putting himself between her and the familiar. "Stop! He didn't... he just wanted to protect me. We were wrong, alright? Can you just... leave us alone now?"

Narrowing her eyes at the boy, she leaned down to eye level with him. "That is why I hate magic. Why I despise mages... You nearly killed someone here today. You attacked a student, and used magic publicly – something even a rank amateur like me knows better than to do. And what do you want me to do? Forget it? Let me guess – normally you'd do something like try to erase my memory, right? How about thinking about your actions and responsibilities before fucking up so royally," she spat, ignoring the flinch her harsh words caused in Konoka.

"Whatever test Konoe-san was giving you, I think you failed it pretty spectacularly," Ranma concluded, snatching her campus ID from Asuna as she stood. "I'll speak with him about this tomorrow. I suggest you prepare yourself."

"No!" Asuna stopped the redhead from moving away, barring her path with arms outstretched. "I can't let you do that. You'll ruin his hopes at becoming a mage!"

"If he can't handle the responsibility of his power, then he doesn't deserve it!" Ranma roared back, coming face to face with the other girl. "The same goes for you! You get your hands dirtied with magic, and suddenly you think you're something else? What the hell is wrong with your head? Have you even trained? Practiced? Do you even know your abilities or limits?" She asked in a rapid fashion, pushing Asuna back with each question.

"Some idiot decided to give a little kid a loaded gun," Ranma commented, her tone calmer, if not fully back to normal. "And now he's going around waving it like the answer to all his problems." Turning toward Asuna, she continued, "Now, he's giving them out to his friends. And you're telling me _to just let this go?_"

Asuna, though obviously wishing she wasn't, stood her ground. "He... he trained hard for this. To get where he is. You can't take that away from him."

Ranma pointed to Chachamaru. "What did he almost take from her? From me? I don't know what that spell could do to someone – luckily I'm skilled enough to avoid stupid crap like that. But what if it was Konoka in the middle of that? Or Makie? Or Ako? Do you think the other girls in 3-A would be proud of you? Of what you nearly did?"

Losing her resolve, Asuna dropped her arms. "... I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

"_You_ can't, no."

Realizing what the redhead meant, Negi stood and cleared his throat. "I'll talk to him. To the Dean."

Ranma turned to regard the young boy with an impassive gaze. "And?"

"Ask him for help. And advice. Maybe a teacher," Negi replied, firming his determination. He wouldn't make these stupid errors again! The only way to improve, was to make mistakes and fix what you did wrong – he wouldn't let this stop him. He _couldn't_ let this stop him.

"Good start," Ranma nodded, calming significantly. "While you're at it," she suggested, trying to get her temper back under control from where he ki was running with it, "get a new advisor, too."

"Hey!" The scuffed up ermine complained at that. "I've only got Aniki's best interests in mind!"

Ranma raised her left hand, staring at her beads intently for a moment, her right hand hovering over them, fingers twitching slowly. The mala clinked ominously, though there was no motion to cause them to do so. Finally, she settled the last loop in place, seeming to lessen in presence as she did so. "I know your kind," she muttered quietly, though loud enough to hear. "Trash. Perverse vermin. And mark my words – if you cross me again, or get my attention, no act of kindness from a brat mage will save you. No matter of distance will save you. No number of apologies, or begging, or pleading will keep me from erasing your presence with such force _that the world will forget your name_."

Negi and Chamo held each other, whimpering quietly. "S-S-Scary..."

Shuddering as her ki drained away, leaving her feeling tired and worn, Ranma started walking toward her original goal again. "C'mon, Konoka-chan. We don't want to be late for our first day."

Sending Asuna and Negi a look that clearly stated they would have _words_ later, the dark-haired girl nodded, hurrying after her redheaded coworker. Hesitating only a moment, Chachamaru regained her bag and followed, speeding her steps to take Ranma's arm and allow herself to be leaned on.

Staring after the departing trio, Asuna considered what had happened and frowned. "She's right. Why did we do this, rather than try to get more information?" Slamming her fist into the ground, she cursed, "Damn. I even ran into Eva the day after and she didn't even have fangs, and mentioned how she needed a month to even try that again! Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because we're not used to this sort of thing," Negi tiredly replied, looking downtrodden. "I've studied combat spells, how to cast them, best conditions, etc... but outside of practice targets, I've never used them. Never fought with them for real, when it mattered," he explained, picking up a small stone and hurling it with all his might against a nearby wall. "Combat strategy and information gathering aren't... well. They aren't exactly covered in the stock material."

Nodding, Asuna looked away. "I... I get in fights a lot, nothing serious, but this... this was just..."

"Hey, c'mon you two! You can let this get you down!"

"Be quiet, Chamo," Negi growled, refusing to look at the ermine, who was stunned by his words and the force behind them. "I... she was right. I would never had done something like this on my own, but I was afraid, and it made so much sense at the time. If McDowell-san really intended on killing me, she had plenty of chances that night. Instead, she just had Karakuri-san disrupt my spells. She didn't do more than flick me in the head!

"As for Eva-san, she did bite me, but you know... I wonder about that."

Asuna slumped to the ground near the young mage. "What do you mean?"

Rewinding the straps that kept his staff mostly hidden, the child-teacher sat the thing down across his knees. "She bit me, yes, but there... she didn't drain any blood. Just... bit."

Blinking in confusion, the auburn-haired girl blushed as her mind supplied the imagery needed to understand. "...ah, you mean... she didn't... suck."

Negi blushed hotly. "Er. Right."

"I don't know much about vampires, and even less about the Shinsō, but... one thing that's always said, is that they barely need to feed anymore. They're so used to their powers and state that they've grown beyond that," Negi commented, picking at the cement beneath him pensively.

Chamo couldn't believe his furry ears. "Wh-What are you saying? She's a vam-pire. Blood-sucker! Undead! Just because that redheaded psycho is on her side, doesn't mean she knows all the facts here!"

"I'm just saying I don't know what she was doing, alright?" Negi shot back, looking harried. "I... I imagine vampires can tell a lot from blood. She did mention that my dad put a curse on her, and then disappeared after all-"

Boggling, Asuna rounded on the young boy, "What? Why didn't you tell me that?"

Flinching away, the slight boy shook his head. "I forgot to. It was during our fight, and she mentioned a curse on her that kept her magic sealed, and... and kept her from leaving the Academy. For the last ten years..."

"Jeez, no wonder she's so pissed off," Asuna muttered. "I mean, I like Mahora and all, but ten years? That's got to be boring."

Negi forced out a half-hearted laugh. "I know, right? Maybe... maybe Saotome-san was right. Looking back, I see that I messed up pretty bad."

The ermine looked back and forth between the two, some of his plans crumbling to dust in the wake of this sudden attack of thoughtful morality. "Aniki," he began soberly, trying a different tactic. "Maybe you were wrong. _This time_. But you were right about a few things. You need a partner – or _partners_. Magisters can have more than one contract, you know!"

Chamo continued into the dumbfounded silence, "And, that psycho was right about one thing – you need more information. You need to get more data, and be ready for the next time!"

"Chamo-kun," Negi tiredly muttered, "I don't want there _to be_ a next time!"

"You don't have that luxury!" The ermine shot back. "That blood-sucker may be going easy on you now, but what if this was just her way of playing with her food?" Pushing forward, the familiar chattered on, "We'll do some research on her – and that crazy lady."

"Saotome-san?" Asuna blinked for a moment, before frowning. "Well... she is new. She transferred in this year. That's kind of odd."

Negi was openly confused. "Really? I mean, my old schools had transfers in and out all the time."

The athletic girl shook her head, bells jingling quietly. "Not so much in Japan. Our classes are static, especially in Mahora. Being an elevator-type school, I've been in the same class for years. That's what Kono-chan meant by knowing Karakuri-san. She's been here for two years now, starting with our first year." Grinning at Negi, she asked, "Didn't you think it was odd, with how the entire class was really close, like a bunch of friends? We live and all go to class together. Even the dorms we live in are the same."

"Wow, I had no idea," the child-teacher admitted, though he should have noticed by now as he was living in one of those dorms. "But... you said she's a transfer. I don't see her at the dorm at all."

"I don't think she lives there," the young woman admitted, frowning thoughtfully. "But more than that... what did she do earlier? She was faster than me – fast enough I couldn't even see her."

Rubbing at his still-ringing head, Negi nodded, "Hits like a train too."

Wincing at her own bruised stomach, Asuna had to agree. "Yeah..."

"Don't forget that power," Chamo chimed in, shivering for effect. "But this much I know. She's an Eastern mage – a ki user. Probably a martial artist."

Negi perked up at that. "Eastern mage?"

The ermine suppressed a grin. Being an advisor was easy – just have the information, and be willing to hand it over. The trick was doing it for best effect. "Right, I'll explain it back at the dorm. We shouldn't talk about it out in the open."

Asuna nodded, rubbing at her stomach with a wince. "Yeah... besides, I think I need to lay down for a while."

–

"She's got some talent," Tatsumiya remarked, loosing a low whistle. Dropping her rifle and closing its scope-cap as she sketched a few notes on the pad before her, the tanned woman paused. "I'd like to see her let loose some time."

To her side, a slight girl carrying a long sword mounted in the shirasaya style shuddered, "No, I don't think you really would." Putting away her binoculars, Setsuna Sakurazaki considered what she'd seen, and what had been relayed from her partner for the afternoon's work. "And you're sure? About Ojō-sama's words and reactions?"

Mana waved the girl's worry aside. "Yeah, I'm sure, Setsuna-san. Hime-sama didn't seem so confused as pissed off at her roommates. Makes one wonder how much she really knows, doesn't it?" She broke down and repacked her rifle quickly, scanning the skyline for their next roost. They couldn't use this position any longer, with both groups heading in directions that would cause a loss of line-of-sight. Surveillance so far had been less than interesting, at least, up until five minutes ago. The fight and conversation between the two groups had been surprisingly bland, truth be told, not that she could hear from that distance. Lip-reading was an interesting talent she'd picked up, handy in her line of work as a miko-mercenary. "Still... there's something that's telling me that I want to fight with her. That redhead, Saotome-san."

Setsuna grunted indifferently, mind very much preoccupied with other thoughts. "You know her address," she commented idly, scanning their surroundings for witnesses.

Grinning to herself, the shootist considered that seriously before schooling her expression. "Targets are moving in the expected path. Our next hide is at the bell tower of the Catholic cathedral serving that area."

Grimacing in anticipation, Setsuna handed her companion a set of earplugs. "Lovely."

Mana took the offered items with a nod, "Thanks. You have running recon, I'll get the nest set up. Lets go."

–

They were halfway from the square where Ranma had faced off against Negi and Asuna to the Baraen-sō, when Konoka stopped them, forcing the redhead to sit down for a moment. Though she wouldn't admit it, Ranma was grateful for the break. She'd used her ki too roughly back against the two before, and the headache she'd gotten for pushing herself into near-Amiguriken speeds in a body-wide manner was not letting up.

"I think it's later," the typically demure girl stated with a sense of finality, sitting beside her companion, while Chachamaru took Ranma's other side.

Ranma knew she wouldn't be able to put things off any longer, and honestly didn't like hiding things to begin with... but she still had to be careful. Both Takahata and Eva had warned her of speaking freely of the hidden world of magic – be it the literal kind or feats of ki – and had been fairly graphic at what happened to those that did so. Still... after what had just went on, there wasn't much she could really gloss over. "...nmph. Ok, first off, I'm a martial artist. A really, _really_ good one."

Konoka tilted her head, frowning slightly. "That... really tells me nothing, you know."

"I'm getting there," Ranma groused, leaning back and closing her eyes against the pounding in her head. "People that work at it like I have can get to the point where they start not only perfecting how they use their body, but the energies within it. That life-energy some call chi, or ki.

"Maybe a handful out of a few thousand can go the next step, and perfect their ki like they have their body," Ranma muttered, before barking out a laugh. "I'm not there yet. I'm like... a little kid still taking lessons on how to fall right when it comes to really using my ki for more than just punching things," she admitted, groaning and clutching her head.

"Saotome-sa-"

"_Ranma_, damnit... Just. Ranma."

Chachamaru nodded, her stoic facade bending slightly as she frowned. "I apologize. Ranma-san, do you require medical aid?"

She would have shaken her head if the threat of it bursting wasn't so pointedly being hammered into her skull. "No, I'll be good in a bit," she muttered, keeping her eyes closed. Feeling like it was worth a shot, she pushed what little ki she had available while fully sealed into the chakras in her head, hissing for a moment at the sharp pain it brought. Gradually however, the overall headache lessened slowly.

"Anyway," she breathed, slumping where she sat, "Konoka-chan, all the strange stuff you've seen me do are the results of martial arts training over the last decade and some change. Sorry if it was a little shocking. I wasn't planning on getting into a fight today."

Konoka shook her head hard, the small parts of her hair that were loose fanning about slightly. "No! I'm glad you did... I really don't want to think about what would have happened to Karakuri-san if you hadn't been there," she mumbled, looking stricken. "I can't believe Asuna-chan and Negi-sensei could be so... so mean. I can't imagine what's come over them."

"People do dumb shit when they're scared," Ranma muttered, sighing a bit as Konoka flinched at her coarse speech. "Sorry. Just kinda worn out. Makes me a bit blunt. As I was saying, there are a lot of uses for ki, and I know a few. Maybe later I can show you some things. Talk about it more."

The young woman bowed slightly. "I would like that. Though, seeing some of what went on, I'm recalling things from when I was small," she admitted, fretting with her hands in her lap. "Growing up in Kyoto with Secchan, things like what you did, what Negi-sensei did, I think happened now and then. I remember, later, just thinking it was me imagining things."

The sound of somewhat distant bells rang out along the street, making the redheaded martial artist wince. "Damn," Ranma muttered, heaving a sigh and herself to her feet unsteadily. "Alright, Kono-chan. I think you and me need to talk a little more later. Don't mention this or what you're remembering with anyone till we do, got it?"

"Right," the younger girl agreed with a nod. "Not like anyone would believe me anyway."

"Oh, you never know," Ranma muttered with a quiet chuckle. "You never know. Though," the redhead mused, sparing a small look to Chachamaru, "you could probably talk to her about it some." Konoka looked to the green-haired girl, who Ranma was indicated with a hooked thumb. The artificial girl nodded once, accepting the proposal.

As she worked to even out her walk, focusing on her ki to lessen the pounding in her head, Ranma noted that Chachamaru again took up a position to her side. She leaned gratefully on the artificial girl, taking a measure of comfort in her solidity. "Ranma-san?"

"Yeah, Chacha-chan?"

The green-haired girl turned her head and regarded the redhead quizzically at the new name. "...?"

"Sorry, sorry. I feel a little..." Ranma spun a finger over her head, as if to illustrate the point."

Chachamaru nodded, returning her attention to guiding them safely following Konoka's lead, where she looked back occasionally. "I would like to accept your offer, and make one of my own."

"Offer?"

"If it still stands," the artificial girl continued. "I would like us to be friends."

Ranma laughed, then laughed louder, scaring birds from the trees around them. "Oi, ow," she muttered, as her mirth died down, rubbing at her temple. Shortly, she answered, "Yeah, you are a strange one, you know?"

Frowning slightly, Chachamaru nodded once.

"I like that. Normal people are boring," Ranma continued, throwing an arm around the taller girl's waist. "I saw this koi pond the other day, and I was thinking, it might be fun to go feed them sometime. Wanna go with?"

"I think I would like that very much."

"Ooh, koi!"

Ranma laughed again, quieter this time. "Yeah, you can come too, Kono-chan."

–

AN: There is a chapter six, but... I don't know if I like how I handled the Konoka-roommates resolution. Felt rushed. Plus there was a... not quite scene, but an indicator of possible foreshadowing that I may not want to press. IE, six is under possible rewrite. Six will also likely be the jump-point from "T" to "M". Not directly by character, but by association.


	6. Chapter 6

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

–

Chapter Six

–

"Nonohara-kacho, need to have a word with you."

The owner of the Baraen-sō raised a brow at her new onsen manager, putting down her sake to wave the redhead into the kitchen where she was preparing a meal for two of the inn's parties. "Not quitting on me already are you?"

Ranma waved the woman's concern aside as she leaned against the frame of the doorway, "Nah, I'm good."

Nodding, the older woman pulled back a sleeve of her uniform kimono, keeping it from draping in the soup she was working on. "Fair enough. What did you need then, and why aren't you watching the Furosawas?"

"They'll be done in about ten minutes – Juhiro-san's really predictable. Could set a clock by him," the martial artist observed with a derisive snort. "Focused though. Could start cleaning the onsen around him and he'd not notice."

"Ah. So what brings you to my office?" Nonohara asked, smirking slightly at the inside joke. Seeing as she had no other cooks currently on the staff, and that Ranma was mostly pinned down out by the springs with their guests, the inn owner was most often found cursing like a sailor over a stove and fanning herself, preparing meal after meal to be delivered to rooms and the few dining halls that the Rose Garden offered. It didn't help that in the small corner closet she kept locked all the paperwork was kept for after hours, when she'd tally and balance the inn's accounts.

Grinning slightly at her manager's humor, Ranma snatched a rice ball, deftly avoiding a retaliatory spoon-strike. "Need to talk to you about Kono-chan."

"Konoka-san?"

"Yeah," Ranma mumbled around her mouthful of rice. "These are good. Anyway, you know she's only fifteen, right?"

Nonohara sniffed, rolling her eyes. "Ah, I understand. You're worried about your friend's innocence." Seeing Ranma nod, the woman produced her fan from a sleeve. "I see. I could tell she was still... uneducated, which is why I was surprised she was with you. That's why I hired her on as a hostess – it has the lowest exposure to such things here. However," the woman's fan stilled, as she considered Ranma for a moment, intently. "I don't think she will be fully insulated. At some point, she will cross into a situation where our guest's activities will become quite obvious. The question I suppose is... Does her desire to have this job exceed her limit for bearing such things?"

Ranma frowned, folding her arms under her breasts as she leaned back against the kitchen wall. The assumption Nonohara made that she herself wasn't an innocent in such things made her curious, but she could pursue that another time. "Honestly, she wasn't even here looking for work with me. She was just tagging along that day."

"Yet, she accepted my offer," Nonohara commented while testing the soup. "Mm, good. That implies some interest, at least, or another motive. Why haven't you warned her of what to expect?"

She dismissed Nonohara's suggestion of Konoka having an ulterior motive out of principle. The girl was like freshly driven snow. Ranma did laugh darkly at the suggestion she should have been the one to inform the other girl of the inn's full nature, however, "Hell of a conversation, Kacho. Not one I could have had with her, until today."

Nonohara hummed thoughtfully at the admission. "I placed you two as being much closer."

"Recent friends. She's just that sort of girl, I think. Really friendly, really easy to get along with. Happy," Ranma added, smiling somewhat as her gaze turned distant.

"I see," the twenty-something woman stated, blinking once in contemplation of her employee's far-off look. "After the Furosawas, do you have another couple scheduled for the onsen?"

"Not for an hour, was going to clean up after they left, since... well, you know."

The older woman nodded sagely, beginning to lay out bowls, small platters, and cups on a wide tray. "Good. Just get it presentable for the next time-slot, should take about fifteen minutes. After that, find Konoe-san, and an empty room," she ordered, beginning to ladle soup into the small bowls. "I leave it to you, to let her know."

Wincing, Ranma made to argue, thinking maybe Konoka could take Nonohara's place in the kitchen, but had no idea if the girl could even cook, much less manage the rather exquisite fare she was witnessing the older woman so casually make during her silences. Outside of her current position, nothing else at the Baraen-sō had less contact, either. Then of course there was the other problem. How the hell was _she_ going to explain this to a girl who reminded her of an adolescent Kasumi Tendo? Heaving a sigh, she nodded once, "Fine."

"Oi, don't embarrass me so much with your gratitude," Nonohara called back, one eye closed as she glared at the redhead. "You do know I could have just had her do futon duty, right?"

"Sure, whatever you say, Kacho," Ranma offered the woman, turning to leave. "But yeah. Thanks. I suppose it's best to hear about this kinda thing from a friend, rather than stumbling on it."

Nonohara snorted indelicately. "Suppose. Though that begs the question... how are you so nonchalant about it all, already? Until just now, I didn't place you as much older than her – something I'm reconsidering quickly. Skeletons of former illicit lovers in that closet of yours?"

Ranma turned and gave the woman a sunny smile. "Nah. Closet was too small – started using the well out back a while ago."

The inn manager could do nothing at that, but raise a brow. That was, until she realized what the redhead had changed about her uniform that had bothered her but not stuck out enough to pin down, as she walked away. "Oi, you ungrateful wench! What's with the chest-wraps? That kimono was sized for best possible visual effect!" Sighing, she looked to the sky, as if for answers. "What did I do to deserve such a difficult emplo-_gackpft_."

She was prevented from concluding her question, as one of Ranma's slippers smacked her in the face. Stomping back down the hall to the woman who was collapsed and flailing on the floor, the redhead snatched back her footwear. "Never do that again."

"...'kay."

–

Ranma found her fellow new hire sweeping off the walk, humming quietly to herself as she bustled about out between the roses. "Damn. She looks kind of happy here... hope this doesn't ruin things for her," the redhead muttered, breaking cover from behind the inn's front entrance. "Hey, Kono-chan! Break time!"

Looking up, the younger girl smiled brightly. "Alright, I'll be right in."

While Konoka finished up with her sweeping, Ranma double-checked the schedule register, making sure there wouldn't be any other guests arriving for the next half hour or so. As it turned out, they were having a light week apparently, and only one other couple was due to arrive before the Rose Garden 'closed' for the night. Setting out a sign and bell so any unexpected arrivals could ring for service, Ranma tidied up while Konoka put away her broom. "I thought you'd be busy all night, with what Nonohara-kacho described as your duties."

"Eh, something important came up," Ranma muttered, leading the Dean's granddaughter to one of the empty rooms, off the second floor hall. "Besides, I needed to talk with you about this place a bit."

Konoka's eyes widened slightly, as her companion closed the door and spun to lean against it. "Auu, is everything alright? You seem agitated, Ranma-san."

Laughing in a nervous fashion, Ranma nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah! Just fine. Just fine..." Taking a deep breath, the martial artist clapped her hands suddenly, startling her companion. "Ah! Let me pour us some tea!"

"Er. Right..."

Over tea, Konoka couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering her new friend, and finally it became too troublesome for her to stay silent. "Ranma-san... what's wrong? You're nervous and agitated," pursing her lips slightly, the young woman sighed, thinking perhaps it was something else, related to what had happened earlier that day. Something like her roommates attacking someone, apparently with magic. "...is it something you can't talk with me about? Something secret?"

Shaking her head, Ranma put her tea down and looked away guiltily. "Er, that is... Konoka-san. One of the reasons I wanted to leave early for the onsen today was to talk with you about the Garden."

"It's so lovely," the young woman replied, smiling despite her worry. "I've never seen such well-tended roses. I hope one day I can come here as a customer myself, and enjoy how relaxing it seems."

Ranma's face went as red as her hair, as she pictured her coworker 'enjoying' the onsen properly. Swallowing thickly, she fanned herself with her hands. "Ahaha... yeah. It does seem rather nice," she commented, her determination completely derailed in the face of that imagery. It took a long minute and half a cup of tea to regain her equilibrium, and stifle the heat that seemed permanently attached to her cheeks. "But um," she began again, "there's something really important I need to tell you about what kind of visitors come here and why."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Ranma muttered, taking a steadying breath. "You know how that day we got hired, I mentioned this was a _couple's_ inn?" Konoka nodded hesitantly, a bemused expression on her face. "Ah, good. Well... um. Oh, say think of it like this.

"The Garden probably gets a lot of recently married couples," she explained, nervousness passing as she found a direction to attack the problem from. "As in, couples on their honeymoon vacation."

Konoka blinked, clearly not understanding but nodding regardless. "Oh, I see."

Ranma slumped. "No... no I don't think you do. You see-"

Shuffling from the hallway got the attention of the two, though it was the words spoken by a familiar voice that caused Ranma's eyes to widen, her pupils shrinking to pin-pricks. "Ah, this room looks good!"

Grabbing Konoka's hand, Ranma dashed into the futon closet, silently thankful the room had been laid out earlier and that there was no need for anyone to open it. Pushing Konoka in ahead of her, the redhead pulled the slatted closet door closed, just as the Furosawas entered the room, both of them clearly quite tipsy from sweet sake.

Cursing quietly enough for only her companion as audience to hear, Ranma turned where she lay on her side, facing the girl. "Alright, I was hoping to avoid just this kind of thing," she muttered, reaching up to rub at her temple where the headache from earlier in the afternoon was returning with a vengeance. "Kono-chan..."

"Ranma-san," the girl whispered, her eyes widening slightly at what she saw begin to take place over the redhead's shoulder. "...why are we hiding? We work here!"

Wincing, Ranma fidgeted slightly. "We... we really shouldn't ruin the mood. It's why they come to the Garden," she explained, trying to tune out the noises that were beginning behind her. "This is what I meant by this being a couple's inn. People come here to be... intimate."

Konoka's attention snapped to the redhead, as she blinked owlishly at the martial artist. Licking her lips slightly, she took a small breath. "You mean..."

"People make reservations here, to have a romantic setting where they can focus on having sex," Ranma whispered her reply, blushing hotly as the woman in the room behind her cried out loudly. "Oh kami, I forgot she was a screamer."

That caused a hard stop in the younger woman's thinking. "Wait," she hissed, "how do you know that?"

"Onsen. Twice."

Her mouth working silently for a moment, Konoka's mind seemed to catch up with what was implied as a blush to match Ranma's hair bloomed on her face. "You... _watched_ them?"

Shaking her head rapidly, Ranma stared resolutely at Konoka, refusing to turn toward the noise at her back. "I stay by the doors, heating sake or waiting for someone to call for towels or something," she quietly replied, refusing to comment on the one couple that had began their activities while she was there. "But... that's not much of a barrier. It's easy for sound to carry."

"And this is what you wanted to talk to me about?" Konoka asked with a thread of incredulity in her voice.

"I was going to explain it and make sure you were alright with working in a place like this, but that craziness with Sensei came up and, well..." she trailed off as Konoka's mouth opened in a silent 'o', her eyes growing huge. "Oh boy."

The two went silent as the sounds of furious sex from outside in the room picked up, making their whispered conversations impossible regardless. Ranma tried to keep her eyes in a neutral location, but her companion's posture, the nature of her dress, and the younger girl's labored breath were playing havoc with her kimono, exposing more and more of the expanse of skin just below Konoka's collar and the curve of her neck.

Konoka was staring unblinkingly at the spectacle playing out between the rather attractive young couple, eyes fixed on her first real exposure to physical intimacy in any form. Myriad impressions zipped through her mind, as the couple expressed themselves, unknowingly playing to a literal captive audience. She boggled at how the woman could accommodate her lover, having never witnessed the mechanics of the physical act before, but currently spared nothing thanks to the couple's very enthusiastic acts.

The dialog had almost as much of an impact on her, as her eyes were drawn to the motion of the woman's body, driven by her lover in ways she'd not imagined before. Seeing her explosive reactions sparked curiosity on Konoka's part, and despite herself she wondered if she too would react so, to a lover. Would she be as vocal, as demanding? Would her arms and legs draw her partner in love in as well? To say a number of her preconceptions and views were violently readjusted would be understatement, at that point.

Though she did consider her life somewhat sheltered, once she began attending Mahora, that had broken down quite a lot. She made friends, and being a girl's school, conversation sometimes strayed to boys and what this or that girl thought was attractive, or who. She'd been so shy and hesitant in the beginning when those talks happened that most assumed wrongly that she had a boyfriend 'back home' or something more fantastic – some lifetime fiance, or a promised prince waiting for her.

Later, her grandfather's hobby of setting up marriage interviews for her disabused the young woman of many of her own fantasies. Recalling that her own parents were married by such an arrangement, one made for political purposes rather than love, she began to despair almost as she'd began becoming interested in such things that she'd never have a romantic moment of her own. Moments like those in the manga and stories her classmates found so interesting, where she began to cultivate those dreams. Oh, and there were so many of them, too, and so many interesting ideas... She was particularly fond of that one with the fencing girl who saved the princess who was made a prize by her callous brother, in some grand tournament that determined the fate of the world.

It simply struck a chord with her, for some reason.

Parting her lips to ease her breathing, she panted slightly, eyes half closing. "...too warm in here," she whined.

Ranma's eyes glazed over at the unintentionally erotic sight. "Konoka..."

"Ranma-san?"

The redhead blinked and shook herself, realizing that the noises behind her had gone quiet. "Oh. Are they...?"

Konoka nodded, though she made no effort to move. Swallowing thickly, she spared her companion a flushed smile. "I'm not upset, you know. I'm... glad I can work in a place like this."

"Eh?" Ranma blinked, vague notions that Konoka was a very stealthy pervert raging to the fore.

Rather, the girl's thoughts earlier had crystallized. "Some day, I think grandfather will arrange my marriage for me," the younger woman explained frankly, her hands moving up to loosen her kimono's collar from the heat. "I don't know if I'll ever get to be in love. Not like that couple was. So... I think I can find a little happiness, a little love of my own, knowing I'm helping those who are truly in love have a place to make such memories."

Her words striking a familiar chord in the redhead, Ranma sobered quickly, her hazed thoughts receding. "Yeah... I can definitely understand what you mean." Turning her head for a moment, she noted that the Furosawas were gone, apparently wandering off to either their own room, or more likely, back to the onsen again to cause her more work. "I'm glad you're not upset though. I was worried."

"Why?"

Ranma laughed quietly. "That you'd think I was a pervert, working here. For bringing you to a place like this." Her smiled turned wry. "That you'd not want to be my friend anymore, after you found out."

Konoka smiled warmly, shaking her head. "You didn't know, when you came for your interview did you?" Seeing her companion indicate a negative, her smile grew a bit wider. "Then, how could you be blamed? Besides, this doesn't change anything that I like about the Garden. Just adds a new facet. Given, it is an unusual one to find myself witnessing," she added dryly.

Reassured and feeling much better now that the cat was out of the bag, Ranma breathed a sigh, giggling quietly as the action unintentionally caused her bust to press against her companion's own from their close quarters. "Sorry," she noted, pausing at the distracted look in the other girl's eyes. "Konoka-chan?"

"Hmm?" Blinking, the younger girl smiled brightly. "Sorry, was just... lost in thought for a moment," she replied, another blush replacing the one that had faded recently. She had not expected such incidental contact to be so electric. Obviously the display had affected her quite strongly, she admitted to herself, as her blush rose. "Ranma-san...?"

Ranma abandoned the idea of sitting up from under the futon shelf, deciding to just wriggle free once the door was opened. "Yeah?"

"Do you think," Konoka paused for a moment, reaching out a hand to lay on Ranma's shoulder, to make her companion still, instead of shuffle about as she had been. "Do you think some day I could... come here with someone special too?"

Her nerve failing, Ranma sucked in a breath and pushed the door behind her open with her foot. "Oh, sure thing!" She blurted, laughing nervously as she quickly backed out of the futon closet, rolling to her feet in a maneuver that should have been impossible in a kimono. "Konoka-chan is... is a lovely girl. I'm sure one day you'll find a handsome guy that you'd want to share something like that with," she babbled, turning to adjust her clothing and gather up the now-sweaty futon that had been laid out, clearly uncomfortable.

Frowning thoughtfully, Konoka exited the small closet as well, raising a hand to help, only for Ranma to flash an obviously fake smile and shake her head. "I have this. Why don't you get the tea set and run it down to the kitchen and Nonohara-kacho? Let her know we're done, so she won't get cranky." Turning again, she busied herself folding and sorting the mattress and the sheets.

Her frown becoming a quiet sigh, Konoka nodded. She'd missed something... something important again. "Then, I'll talk to you later, Ranma-san," she excused herself with a small bow, not sure what else to say.

Once the other girl had closed the door behind her, Ranma's frantic motion died away, the futon falling from her hands with a muffled thump. "Stupid..." she swallowed the lump in her throat, growling at the stinging in her eyes. "Real stupid, getting caught up in the moment like that," laughing bitterly, she cursed as one of them broke into a sob. "Should know better by now. Love isn't something you'll find in this world, _baka_."

Ranma beat against her temple lightly with her fist. "Better get that girl out of your head. No way that'll ever happen. Not for a freak you. Those people in Nerima were right," she declared with a note of finality, huffing out a breath as if to banish the thought along with it. "Right. Back to work."

Scrubbing the back of her hand across her traitor eyes, Ranma gave into the biting need to sink into the Soul of Ice to counter the emotional roller-coaster her unbalanced ki was driving her along. As the temperature in the room dropped, so did the ache in her heart, as the void there was filled with snow. It wouldn't last – it never did. But for now, the ache would be numbed for a while. Painting on a smile that wasn't so obviously strained as simply false, she gathered the futon with precise motions before returning to her duties.

The rest of he night passed without incident, and if she seemed less warm and sincere, no one commented on it. The sake was warm, and the onsen the perfect temperature.

As she and Konoe left for the afternoon, they picked up their schedules. Nonohara was quietly pleased that the Dean's granddaughter would be returning, though she noted something of a chill between the previously close girls she'd hired. Frowning, she shot a pointed look to Ranma, only to blink at the dead gaze and plastic smile she returned.

Vowing to figure this new development out, the inn manager snapped her fan open, mind a-whirr as her newest source of entertainment and help walked off toward the Academy an arm-length away from one another.

–

Alone in his apartment, Ranma relaxed after a scalding bath, cracking open a can of tea he held in a hand. "Man... today was some kind of crazy," he muttered, slumping into a chair, letting the remnants of the day fade now that it was drawing to a close. The living room to his apartment was a combination type, with the kitchen nearby, though like the bedroom it had more western accents that he was used to. A wide couch and a small single-person recliner were situated a few feet from the low table and mats more common in a traditional home. It was like some kind of fusion thing Ninomiya-sensei had favored, he recalled.

It was strange, but it was home. In a way, it helped define the room, he supposed. "Maybe I'll get a TV later," he muttered quietly, looking around the room, placing odd furnishings in his mind, discarding them for others. Basically anything he could do to keep his mind off of the day.

"Master doesn't need noisy box," his Shikigami chirped, cradling a slice of apple in her hand. "Master has Suzu. Suzu will keep Master happy."

Ranma smiled, reaching out to fluff the tiny girl's hair with his finger, eliciting a pleased chirp. "You're a sweet one. I shouldn't get you so many apples, you're turning into sugar, little Bee." His smile grew at bit at her blush, as she busied herself with her treat. Memories of another's blush dimmed his expression, though he cast those thoughts aside quickly. Counterproductive.

"Are you looking forward to meeting some new people, tomorrow? Make some friends?"

The Shikigami paused, regarding him with a tilted head for a moment. "Suzu will do her best. Suzu only wants to be useful for Master. Others not important to Suzu."

He hummed at that, shaking his head. "Silly little Bee. But that's just how you are. I think you'll get along well with Chacha-chan, though. She and you are a lot alike."

Suzumebachi considered that with a small frown. "She is Shikigami like Suzu?"

"Not quite. She's an artificial girl. Someone made her."

The little summon blinked behind her bangs in confusion. "Suzu has parents. Parents made Suzu. Does this make Suzu artificial too?"

It was Ranma's turn to be confused, though that only lasted long enough for him to laugh. "No, it's not quite the same. Though, I suppose in her own way, she has parents too. Suzu is a smart girl," he praised, grinning as the little wasp summon beamed at his praise. "She teaches me how people are really just the people, no matter where they come from, or how they get here."

"Suzu happy that Master is happy," the tiny girl chirped, deciding she preferred Ranma's shoulder to her spot on the table.

The relaxing interlude was broken as the intercom buzzer rang. Ranma regarded the thing blankly for a moment, forgetting what it was for till the memory of the landlady describing it came back to mind on the second ring. "Gah, hold on!"

"Waaah!" Ranma's sudden lunge for the buzzer caused Suzumebachi to flail and grab onto his shirt frantically, as she was nearly unseated, bouncing around madly as the martial artist stumbled around to the wall.

"Uh, how's this... this one?"

The intercom crackled to life, "_Auu, hello?_"

Ranma went deathly still and stared at the small box, disbelieving what he just heard. Raising his hand, the martial artist paused, before pressing the outbound key. "Hello? Who is it?" Not that he didn't know already.

Silence reigned for a heartbeat, before Konoka's voice returned, more unsteady than before. "_Ah. I'm sorry, I was looking for Ranma Saotome. I think I have the wrong address... Please forgive the intrusi-_"

"Hold on, I'll open the gate," he called down, before pressing the key that would unlock the outer door. Immediately after, he made sure the intercom was off, before smacking his head against the wall. "...what am I doing?"

"Master?"

"Oh, _crap_."

–

Konoka hesitantly climbed the steps up to the third and last floor of the off-campus apartments, wondering if she wrote down Ranma's address wrong. She'd met the redhead outside the building twice now, in the mornings before class, but hadn't yet actually gone up to her apartment. Time or opportunity never presented themselves, something she'd hoped to fix, before the day's madness. She still wanted to – her friendships weren't so fickle as to be swept away so easily. Setsuna was proof of that. Konoka knew she still harbored deep affection for the girl, but had yet to really reestablish contact. Though, it wasn't for lack of trying. For some reason the girl form her childhood just wouldn't let her get close – and it frustrated her to no end! Still, she planned to take advantage of Ranma's advice there, and be persistent. She would make contact again, and she would close that distance.

However, it wasn't Setsuna that was causing her problems, currently. She didn't know why she'd thought that things would be the same back at her dorm, considering she shared a room with all three of the people on the 'other side' of the conflict that day. It was true that she'd had a lot more to say to Asuna at the time, but after her shift at the Garden and the odd mood Ranma had been in, the usually chipper and cheerful girl found herself wanting nothing but a good night's sleep and a mild case of amnesia.

Her tenacity in keeping what friends she had, Konoka knew, was likely the only reason she counted Negi and Asuna in that category at all at the moment after what had happened after her shift at the inn. Returning to her dorm so soon after things, or maybe without immediate closure had been a mistake, she understood now. Having all night to sit and stew amongst themselves, Negi, Asuna, and Chamo had entrenched themselves in justifications, new research proving that Eva wasn't just a vampire, but one with a price on her head, and that surprisingly enough, Ranma Saotome didn't exist.

It had taken all the training from her time in Kyoto, raised as an heir to her father's name to keep her composure – but she had. She had suffered through their speeches, their explanations, their justifications for nearly an hour before sighing and putting her now-cold tea down with a very final-sounding _clink_. In the silence that had come after, she had quietly stood again from where Asuna had sat her down near the table, and started collecting clothing and books into an overnight bag. Finding her underwear drawer empty, she calmly closed it before sending her diminutive teacher a look that told him who specifically she held responsible. Konoka ignored the ermine's sputtered excuses, much like she had ignored his presence entirely that night, as she collected her belongings from his bedding.

As she packed her laundry bag full of underthings she refused to wear until they'd been washed, Konoka thought about what she was doing, and where she was planning to go. Or, rather, where she hadn't planned to go.

The problem was, it had grown to the point where all of it was just too much. The day had seriously taxed her, and though she could probably go and find Yue, she had no idea if her roommate would be willing to let her stay there for the day or two she needed to settle her mind.

Apparently her actions made Asuna desperate, causing the energetic girl to fix on Ranma for the next quarter of an hour as she packed, in the hopes of disproving the redhead's words earlier, Konoka assumed. She'd glanced at the picture they printed out of the only Ranma Saotome on record anywhere, seeing a reasonably attractive young man, maybe a year or two older than herself. Something of the picture made her pause, however. It tickled at her memory, refusing to surface, though she admitted as she had walked later, it might have been due to the fact the redhead she knew resembled the young man quite a lot.

Konoka wasn't beyond being logical, in fact, she was more than a little worried about what they were saying. That, however, made no difference at all in what had happened that day. Enough, was simply, enough. Turning to address the room finally while shrugging off Asuna's hand on her shoulder, she stated, "I'm disappointed in you all. You're behaving like children, trying to justify yourselves out of your own guilt." Rather than say more, she simply left, knowing that if she remained at the dorm that she'd get no peace either, and didn't trust herself to be civil if things continued as they had. She just needed a little time to get her head wrapped around everything. That was all.

But, that need didn't get her a place to sleep that night.

That only left one possible destination, though it wasn't one she consciously decided on. She'd not known where she was going initially, but her feet had carried her to Ranma's apartment complex more or less automatically. Which brought her back to the current moment, standing in a darkened hallway, with a single rectangle of light some distance ahead.

A silhouette was outlined by that lighted portal, and it wasn't one she was expecting. Coming closer, she stared in confusion and a little fear at the person standing there, where she'd expected her friend to be. In fact, had she not been having the kind of day it had been, she'd honestly have thought she was dreaming, or her mind was playing tricks on her.

In the doorway to what she had though was her friend Ranma's apartment, stood someone else she had been told bore that name. Only, this was a somewhat tall young man, with black hair had the same eyes and bearing as her classmate. He even had the same hairstyle. With all that had happened that day, it wasn't a large leap in logic to make, as a memory from before term placed the young man. "You're her, aren't you? Ranma-chan, I mean."

The young man had frowned for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before nodding. "Yeah. Well, at least now you know why I dislike magic so much. Come on in. I'll... go change or something."

She waved the offer off, as she slipped her shoes off by the door tiredly. "Don't worry about it. This is your home. Though," she considered, looking up at the young man with an expectant stare, "I'm not going to let this one go till 'later'."

He had managed a little laugh, before guiding her inside his home. Konoka smiled privately, easily recognizing that sound, even if it was coming from a different face. "Fine, but frankly, I'm beat so you can grill me in the morning. You can take the bedroom, I'll be fine on a futon out here."

"But-"

"No buts," the male Ranma countered, taking the girl's bag and her arm in hand. "It's been a hell of a day, and we're both probably exhausted. Tomorrow's a Sunday – I got nothing to do till later in the day, so we can talk all you want. For now, go sleep it off, and get some peace and quiet."

At those magic words, Konoka beamed a smile and nodded. "Right. I'll see you in the morning, Ranma-chan."

"Oi, I'm a boy here!"

–

"So. What are your thoughts?"

Takahata sat, as did the other mages within Konoemon's circle of trust, at a large table, located in a small adjacent room to his office. Dimensionally adjacent – only those with the proper pass could hope to enter. Such was the level of secrecy needed for some of the discussions that the Kantō Magic Association had.

Ones much like the present, the graying teacher noted while running a hand through his hair. "She is willing to learn, an apt pupil, and so far, has shown remarkable moral fiber."

"Is that what you call her choice in workplace, Takahata?"

The man in question raised a brow at his associate, the often-overlooked Seruhiko. "No. I call that filling an employment contract that she insisted on requesting," he explained as if to a child. "You know – taking responsibility for your actions."

Seruhiko's frown became a near-scowl. "So, she should also be held accountable for the Dean's granddaughter being exposed to such things? I see."

Patience withering, Takahata leaned his elbows on the table, directing a blasé but heavy stare at the younger man. "Look, kid. You want to earn your spot here being a yes-man toady, do it on your own time, not when the adults are at the table. Try and pretend to have something between your ears, or don't open your mouth. Got it?"

The young man looked to be ready to take his aggravation and bring it to a physical level, but was cut off by the Dean himself. "Takahata's words aren't the most considerate, but his message does apply. Seruhiko. Please leave such sentiments at the door, for these meetings."

Swallowing thickly, the young teacher nodded, refusing to meet the eyes of anyone present.

"That said, I admit to being less than pleased that my granddaughter has not only been exposed to such an environment, but has also proven willing to continue such exposure on her own," the older man admitted. "In the future, perhaps some steps will be needed to address this.

"That however isn't the concern for the moment," Konoemon pointed out. "As the closest in contact with Saotome, what do you have to report, Takahata? I think after our initial exposure and the lack of incidents up till now, her personality has been proven relatively clear. She doesn't seem to be the instigating party in much of her recorded history, merely the lynchpin. Now that she's free of those situations, things seem rather calm, and Saotome appears eager to continue that trend.

"Surveillance will still continue, as her potential remains worrisome. If something does happen, I would rather know quickly, so we can react to contain and minimize the damage," the old man concluded, voicing his views so far to those present. "Now, on to why we are here. Let us begin with ability."

Takahata leaned back in his chair, the middling-aged teacher humming in thought. "She lacks some of the basic needs one requires to succeed as any kind of mage, the least of which actually being the training. Honestly, she'd do better as a Ministra than a Magistra. Saotome's martial training, mindset, and sheer power simply make her an ideal subject for a Pactio..."

"But?"

"But, she won't admit that she needs that kind of support," Takahata explained. "Her pride in herself and way of thought regarding magic directly conflict with that system. Trying to push her into accepting magic as necessary would be... a herculean effort at best."

Konoemon nodded, looking troubled. "She truly hates magic that much?"

The teacher could only shrug. "I can't say to what degree, but a general _yes_ applies. Perhaps she could be convinced it's a necessary evil, but I'd almost fear more what would cause that kind of paradigm shift in her. Hell, I almost shudder to think what kind of Magi would be needed to Contract her," he admitted, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Be that as it may, I have no solid idea. The girl willingly discusses ki theory and martial principal with me, but beyond that, she's a closed book. She's so internalized that her outward reactions are always schooled, even when her emotions take to the fore. Saotome does not lose control – and that is the basic problem.

"Suggesting she take a Contract with someone as subordinate would simply be pointless. It goes against everything that's built her up to this point, as that puts her not only under a mage – which she won't abide – but also implies her own skills and abilities aren't sufficient." Takahata pointed out.

Gandolfini grunted in irritation at the conundrum. "I'd say simply putting her in a position that shows she has no other way to overcome it would be the best option, but as Takahata indicated, her current abilities make such a thing unthinkable to orchestrate. The collateral damage would be immense based solely on her previous pre-Jusendo record, I would question the sanity of anyone that would do so, regardless of the benefits gained," he concluded. "Pactio do not by necessity provide power – some are nearly useless. Personality, ability, skill, and some kernel of the inner self all go into an Artifact's creation. We have no guarantee that Saotome's would be something worthwhile."

"Yet her focus solely on ki limits her," Konoemon argued. "Each world has a way to pass on the power of one to another. Here, the rigidity of laws that govern nature allow technology to flourish, where in other worlds the same must be accomplished by magic or ki. One can use their power to build an engine of war, and simply hand such a formidable force to another – and such is Pactio. A method to transfer magical power.

"We have lost the knowledge of what the world of spirit considered equivalent, and until we discover it... Saotome will remain an untapped resource, I fear." Peaking his fingers, the old man considered a thought. "Perhaps a different approach to forming a Pactio would work better. Less subordinate than equal share... hrm."

While the Dean muttered to himself, Takahata took off his glasses, his mouth a fine line of annoyance. "Forgive me, but there's one thing I don't understand," he commented into the silence after the Dean's words. "Why is she so important?"

"Simple," the Dean answered amicably. "She is a resource, and a rare one. There are exceedingly few that have her capacity for ki, and fewer still those who would willingly associate with not only humans, but mages. That rarity aside, she would be a dire threat if recruited by Kansai against us."

Takahata's expression soured. "So, on top of everything else, we're keeping a potential Ace out of the other Magic Association's hands. What if she decides to 'defect' on her own?"

"I'm afraid that simply can't be allowed," Konoe answered gravely. "Though we aren't openly antagonistic, the rivalry between the lower ranks of either side would tempt someone to act irrationally. We may have a tentative truce with Kansai thanks to some political maneuvering on my part, however there are clear instances of anti-Western sentiment throughout Japan still. Those acts far outstrip anything outside of a large organization, in terms of coordination and resources." Smoothing down his mustache with a sigh, the Dean shook his head. "No, it's bad enough that Kansai's dissidents openly recruit and hire local talent against us, through third parties – if they had a resource like Saotome, things would get ugly, quickly."

"The decision to retain Saotome's presence isn't simply political," Tōko Kuzunoha pointed out, in her position as leader of the Mage's Association's operations director. "There are also tactical situations to consider. She also levels the field to a degree, as very few Eastern mages would openly work with such a Western organization, and we are in a somewhat disadvantageous position."

"What stance does the Shinmei-ryū have on such things?" Seruhiko asked.

The bespectacled swordswoman spared the man a curious glance. "There is an alliance in place, though the School has no obligation to assist either Association, or bar assistance in turn. The individual is free to make that decision. I would have expected you to know that, considering the marriage between the Dean's daughter and the Aoyama family.

"As I was saying, this is Kansai's home territory, ultimately. Saotome presents an opportunity to study and better understand those systems, in a way that doesn't break any truces or agreements. With both the Shinmei-ryū and an understanding of such things in place, if conflict arises, in time we'll be able to counter Kansai's advances easily. We have the opportunity to gain that knowledge, if she will cooperate with us."

"There are also other concerns," Konoe added with a grave expression. "What we know about the magical world – the one separate from our own – points at something cataclysmic approaching, and the key to staving such an event off may lie not in that world or our own, but in another.

"Balance has been lost, between the three worlds," Konoemon explained. "That balance not only allows the bounties of each to ebb and flow between them, but supports them on a fundamental level. Without magic, ki, and law, the world we know wouldn't exist. The situation is no different for the other realms."

His brow creased, Gandolfini shook his head slowly. "But... the spirit world was _lost_. Sealed away as it literally shattered in what was called a Riftwar, to prevent its death from taking the other worlds with it," the mage tried to reason out. "This is basic history. If the world of spirit, this place where ki is prevalent above all other energies, still exists... then why haven't we made contact again? Why haven't they?"

"That is the question I wonder if Ranma will answer for us, some day soon."

–

Ranma woke to the smell of breakfast being cooked, and relaxed into the futon with a happy mumble. She was a little uncomfortable, though it wasn't too much of a worry – the coverlet had just shifted from her wing getting tangled—

Her eyes shot open, and the redhead bolted upright from her slow waking, startling Konoka as she cursed from having slammed her foot into the nearby table. "Ranma-san? Are you... alright..."

The quiet girl had been working on breakfast after waking at her usual time. She hoped Ranma didn't mind, but the little domestic things like cooking and tidying after herself helped center her thoughts, which was something she desperately needed after all that had happened yesterday. Then, there were the memories... that had been another thing to deal with, but not last night. She would think on them in time, but not _now_. One thing at a time.

Having woken earlier than her host, she was somewhat surprised to find the familiar form of her classmate where the young man had been the night before, though she looked cold with her blankets thrown to the side as they were. Her sense of propriety and privacy didn't let her eyes linger, which was likely why she missed the wings twitching under the blankets in question, as the redhead slept and dreamed on after they'd stolen her bedding.

Which lead directly to the young woman, spatula in hand, left staring openly as a groggy Ranma with one wing trailing a blanket that was tangled around it, the other arching up to scratch at her temple with its crook. Turning on her heel, the Dean's granddaughter returned to the kitchen, worrying about her eggs.

Ranma just blinked, anxiety spiking through her stomach roughly. "Uh... Konoka-chan?"

"Yes Ranma... chan?" The girl called back, voice muffled by the walls.

Closing her eyes tightly, the redhead slumped. "...never mind. I'm going to get the furo warmed up."

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes," Konoka called out after, in a distracted tone.

The martial artist merely shook her head, muttering about 'the second coming of Kasumi' as she set the temperature and fill-timer on the heated tub. Leaving before the humidity could foul her wings, the redhead moved to the living room, poking around at the floor and her blankets for her _mala_. Having found nothing, she panicked slightly, wracking her brain for where she may have misplaced it. "Um, Konoka-chan? Did you happen to see that string of beads I always carry anywhere?"

Poking her head around the corner, the younger girl's eyes briefly rested on Ranma's wings before moving back to her face. "There was a string of them on your nightstand this morning."

"Suzu," Ranma realized. She'd been more or less programmed to retrieve her beads any time they weren't where they were supposed to be, and considering her usual routine, in the living room counted. Likely the little Shikigami was tired herself, and just moved on automatic, forgetting Ranma had let Konoka sleep in her bed last night. Thanking the apron-wearing girl, she dashed for her room, missing the intense gaze of her house-guest.

Sealed and wingless, Ranma sat on one of the stools situated at the divider between kitchen and living room, watching as Konoka cooked, humming quietly. "You know," she began, getting the girl's attention, "you didn't have to do that."

"I like to cook," Konoka offered, sparing the redhead a small smile which became bemused at the lack of wings the redhead reappeared with. "Besides, there was a lot you promised to explain today."

Nodding, Ranma fidgeted with her _mala_. "Yeah, suppose so. Well, may as well start, though there's someone I'd like to introduce you to first." Hoping for the best, she nevertheless planned for the worst, palming the only apple not locked in a cupboard into her pocket. "Suzu, come out!"

Konoka blinked at the sudden call, having not seen or heard another person in the young woman's – man's? Classmate's, she decided – apartment the night before. She stared as a small blur darted her by, ducking behind the redhead as it passed her. "Ranma-chan, who are you yelling for?" She asked quietly, hoping for no more massive surprises.

"Suzurin," Ranma beckoned, using the most affectionate name she knew for the little summon, "come up and say hello." Slow and wary, a tiny form was revealed as it climbed over Ranma's shoulder, clinging to her hair and clothing as if preparing to dive back behind her at the slightest provocation. "Konoka-chan, this is my Shikigami and friend, Suzumebachi. She was around last night, but I had her stay out of sight, since we'd both had a few too many surprises. She's a little shy now, but she's normally very protective of me," the redhead explained, hoping the younger girl got her message clearly. "I've never had friends over with her, so she doesn't know how to really behave around them."

Konoka stared at the tiny figure as it seemed to fidget with its hands, before sweeping around the counter and right next to Ranma with a speed the martial artist hadn't expected. "Oh, she is just so darling," the younger girl gushed, causing a fierce blush to bloom on the tiny girl's cheeks. "You're name is Suzumebachi? I'm so very pleased to meet you," Konoka offered, smiling brightly. "My name is Konoka Konoe, but please call me Konoka."

Put on the spot, the little summon could do nothing but stutter and cling to Ranma's collar. "S-S-Suzu is happy to meet Mistress's friend," she managed finally. Seeming to find a bit of her usual steel, the wasp-spirit peered from under her bangs, her eyes glinting golden. "Konoe-sama _is_ Mistress's friend?"

Konoka frowned a little at the address, but having dealt with it for most of her life in one way or another, got over it quickly to address the pointed question she was asked. "Yes, I am. I also work with her, and go to class with her as well."

Something seemed to click from that comment in the tiny girl's mind, and her posture suddenly became something less nervous as polite. Demure, even. "Suzu cannot always go with Mistress," the summon began quickly. "Cannot watch over Mistress some times."

Ranma blinked, before realizing what her sneaky little Bee was up to, "Now, Suzu-"

Quickly, before she could be interrupted, the tiny girl continued, "Suzu wonders if Konoe-sama would watch over Mistress when Suzu cannot? Please?"

Quite taken with the little girl, Konoka beamed and nodded happily, "Well, it is a friend's job to do things like that. So! I promise to watch over Ranma-chan, alright Suzurin? Is that good enough?"

Ranma, seeing the perfect opportunity, and feeling the need to derail her Shikigami's overprotective nature, palmed the apple again, deftly tossing it to Konoka. "Oh! Well look at that Suzu! It seems Kono-chan brought you an apple for breakfast. How thoughtful of her!"

Konoka blinked at the fruit suddenly in her hands, having caught it more out of reflex than anything. "Ara?" She paused, literally _feeling_ the intensity of the tiny girl's gaze on her.

"Can... Can Suzu have the apple for breakfast?" The tiny girl asked, nose cutely twitching beneath her bangs as she faintly vibrated with expectation.

The Dean's granddaughter smiled, "Of course! Would you like me to cut it into wedges for you?"

The wasp Shikigami blushed. "Ah... Suzu can do so herself, but if Konoka-sama offers, Suzu would not object," she stated, hands twisting together while her foot toed at Ranma's shoulder.

Ranma stared in confusion, before turning to whisper at the tiny girl. "Are you _flirting_ with Kono-chan?"

Suzumebachi squeaked and hid behind Ranma's shoulder again, earning the redhead a scowl from her coworker. "Ranma-chan! You can't ask such a thing so bluntly! Take a girl's heart into consideration!"

Mouth working silently, the martial artist wondered what the hell just happened, and why suddenly she was the subject of two disapproving stares. "I... you know, three years as one, and I still don't get women," she muttered, slumping against the counter with a huff.

Konoka smiled and slid a plate full of eggs and toast in front of her, and a minute later, one with a neatly wedged and peeled apple beside it.

She had made a friend for life, if Suzu's watery eyes were any indication.

–

AN: Fixed an issue where I messed up my timeline. (Kyoto reference out of order, adjusted)  
Next up should be either Eclipsed or something new. Yes, again. Nyahaha~  
(and that's your hint)


	7. Chapter 7

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

AN: Oh, I believe this gauntlet is yours, Lordsfire. Nishishi.

–

Chapter Seven

–

With all the things that had changed in the last small while, Ranma could honestly say that she felt she was doing alright keeping up with adapting. One of the smaller, more trivial examples of this was her recent fondness for Pocky.

Most of those that had filled out her acquaintance over the last three years would scoff at that idea, but the truth of the matter stood. Ranma preferred small snacks through the day to glutting herself like her father, but had no qualms against eating anytime the offer presented itself. Living on the road for years had taught her the value of eating when one could and not questioning it, something she doubted many of her current classmates could relate to. Like most teen girls Ranma had been around, the girls of Class 3-A tended to think about their figure quite a lot, but paid less attention to their nutrition in the trade-off. It was a trend she had found personally rather tiresome, but as she made little attempt to interact with her classmates as a whole, didn't affect her directly.

Munching on her second stick of Pocky since locking her apartment with a quick sealing ofuda much to Konoka's interest, Ranma took a measure of her stock of sweets and nodded to herself. Patting at the cargo-style pants she was wearing, she hummed in thought before deciding she would be fine. Four boxes should get her through the afternoon without too much loss of energy.

Pocky wasn't her first choice, of course, as there were better options to replenish her body's energy while she practically starved it of _ki_, but most had drawbacks of some sort. A lack of portability, being too sweet, or too messy, packaging that was annoying to deal with, etc. Pocky came in its own little boxes that fit nicely into the pockets of her baggy, roomy, sturdy pants, could be nibbled on without drawing too much attention, and was available everywhere from vending machines to the student commons within Mahora itself. Plus, she thought she looked kinda cool with one caught in the crook of her mouth. Content with her current selection – Almond Crush – she made a note to send a box to Hinako-chan at some point in thanks for reacquainting her with the snack. The little teacher would probably be happy to hear from her, and know that she was actually doing well in school this time around.

Peering over at her companion, Konoka fretted with her hands slightly, a thoughtful frown on her face as they crossed into the main courtyard before Ranma's off-campus apartment. "Um, are you sure this is alright? Me following along like this?"

"Nah, it's nothing to worry about," the cursed redhead assured her, idly toying with her _mala_ as she considered the sun's position in the sky while nibbling a bit more of her current stick of Pocky. It was a lie, most likely, but one she hoped to mitigate as best as she could in the coming few days. The beads clinked dully, as if they weren't quite as awake as the young woman running them through her fingers out of recent habit, or perhaps weren't as sure as the redhead about her hopeful thoughts.

The string of beads regardless caught Konoka's attention as she stood nearby. "If you don't mind me asking… you seem rather attached to that," she observed, indicating Ranma's left hand and the string of carved jade beads, each as large as a her smallest fingernail, wrapped in a deliberate sort of pattern around her odd friend's hand.

Ranma regarded the _mala_ for a brief moment before smiling distantly at it. "Yeah, you could say that. On one hand it's a memento from some good friends I made, after things had gone really wrong in my life.

"On the other hand, it's also the only thing that lets me walk around like a normal person anymore," Ranma blithely explained, causing Konoka's eyes to open widely. "Those wings I promised to explain? Without this, I wouldn't be able to walk around like I am now. This string of beads – my _mala_ – seals that side of me away."

"And you're going to explain that when we get to McDowell-san's? The wings?"

"Yeah," Ranma agreed, sparing Konoka a rueful smile as she ran her thumb across the jade crisscrossing her palm. It warmed slightly at her touch, and she could faintly feel it vibrate against her skin. "Thanks for being patient about me explaining things. I had to do this once a few days ago, and seeing as I have to do it again today anyway… well. It takes a bit, and can be a chore."

Konoka considered the distant, almost wistful look on Ranma's face and smiled softly. "It's fine. You must have cared for them very much."

Ranma laughed quietly at that, looking about herself as the two of them passed a few landmarks she'd memorized, highlighting the path she needed to take. She estimated they were just under halfway to Eva's place. "They were a blast. A bit rough around the edges even compared to me, but they knew how to have fun and weren't shy about dragging me along for the ride. Could say I got a bit carried away," she noted before snickering to herself at some inside joke. "Even though I only knew them for a short while, they were a great help. I've never had friends that… unconditional, I guess."

The Kyoto-born girl's expression fell slightly at that. "You… had a rough time growing up, didn't you?"

Nodding wordlessly, Ranma let nothing she felt about that question show on her face. "Yeah, but it could have been worse," she finally offered. "It could always have been worse."

It was a handful of minutes before conversation began again between the two; one lost in thoughts of the past, both good and bad, the other wondering if she was truly ready for what she feared would be revealed soon. "Um… Ranma-san? About Suzu-chan… what is she, really?"

"Heh," the martial artist favored the blushing girl at her side with a sly grin. "You've been just busting at the seams wanting to ask about her all morning, haven't you?" Getting a shy nod in reply, the redhead snickered again. "It's fine, really. I'm going to introduce her to Eva here soon, but I won't really need to explain much to her, so I guess it's fair to tell you as we walk." Reaching up, Ranma touched the origami bee resting in her hair with a fond gesture, where the Shikigami was currently napping to conserve her energy.

"Does that mean," Konoka murmured quietly, brow knit cutely as she connected some dots in her mind, "that she already knows about you? Or just Suzu-chan?"

Ranma thought about that question and realized she'd revealed a bit more than could be considered proper, considering current circumstances. It was forbidden to admit to or demonstrate the supernatural oneself, but telling about _another's_ connections and capabilities was rude beyond measure. Still, Konoka had been witness to not just her own display of prowess the previous day, but also a small sample of Negi-sensei, her roommate Kagurazaka-san, and even Chachamaru's abilities. At this point, it would be best to head the girl's questions off with a solid dose of explanation, rather than let her bumble around and possibly get roped into anything dangerous… or, considering who her roommate was, stupid. Not that Ranma considered Asuna unintelligent, despite her status as a 'Baka-Ranger', but it was clear she'd made some bad choices in this area already.

The last thing the martial artist wanted was her recent friend to get dragged into some idiot scheme involving magic and get hurt. She didn't care about the brat-teacher's plight, or even the looming threat of the Dean's disapproval in that regard; Konoka had wormed her way into the cursed redhead's heart, despite all Ranma had done to shore it up and keep it locked away in a prison of ice. Denial had always been one of her best defenses, but clearly with her _ki_ as haywire as it was and with the Soul of Ice a double-edged sword at best, she had little hope of pushing Konoka away, unlike her previous attempts with the fiancées.

Not that she was in the same situation with Konoka. One awkward day at work hiding in a closet while a couple had loud and very aerobic sex just outside of it as they shared a moment of personal vulnerabili—

"Gwah!" Redfaced, Ranma turned and slammed her forehead into a nearby light pole, dislodging a bit of debris to rain down in a small cloud of dust, a startled flight of birds to take to wing from the nearby trees, and her companion to squeak in sudden terrified surprise at the redhead's erratic behavior. Previous thoughts dislodged, she coughed into a fist and offered a wide-eyed Konoka an awkward smile. "Sorry, zoned out there for a moment."

"I… see…"

"Anyway, you asked if Eva knew about this stuff," Ranma waved about her vaguely, before continuing. "Basically, I can say she'd know what Suzurin is and some of my own circumstances. It's not my place to say more than that, really.

"As for Suzu, you've heard some stories about Shikigami before, yeah?" Seeing the Dean's granddaughter nod, Ranma continued. "Well, most of what you'd read in a manga or see in anime comes close to the mark. There are nature spirits that inhabit the world around us, invisible most of the time and unable to directly affect the world, but a fundamental part of it.

"Most of the time, they're simply referred to as minor kami, the little gods that make up the world," Ranma explained, tucking her hands behind her head as she nibbled her current stick of Pocky down to the base. "There are the spirits we would call yōkai as well, but honestly they're not much different than the little kami – it's all about perspective and intent."

Konoka nodded, the theme familiar from one of the anime she was currently fond of. "Spirits helpful or uninterested in people's lives would be the little kami, while those that cause people problems would be considered yōkai."

Nodding, Ranma turned her head and grinned at the girl. "Yeah, you got it. There are a few hard lines there of course – spirits that are specifically dangerous get classed as yōkai as a rule, and those that are always beneficial are always kami. People like their dividing lines and all.

"Anyway, these spirits can be called to take a physical, solid form," the martial artist continued, snapping out a piece of sealing paper with a flick of her hand into her sleeve. "Using personal _ki_ or the chi of the world if they're good at that kind of thing, an Onmyōji can either bind or invite a spirit to take a form. The energy builds a body for the Shikigami, and part of it is kept as a sort of payment that they take back with them when the summon expires.

"Back when I was learning this stuff, I did that with a young wasp kami. Of course, I screwed it up and overdid it a just a little bit, and she came out the size of a town car."

Konoka, who adored Suzumebachi, regardless had the usual fear of all things that sting, and paled dramatically at the idea of a _car sized wasp_. "Messed up… a little bit? Town car?!"

Shrugging, Ranma nodded, ignoring the girl's discomfort. "Yeah, it was embarrassing, but she was my first summon you know? Still, after we hashed things out and came to an agreement, she's been my personal Shikigami since. Doesn't hurt that I keep a good supply of apples on hand."

Ranma produced a calligraphy brush with her other hand, and quickly scratched out the word for 'wasp' on the slip of paper she'd produced earlier. "An Onmyōji is someone who utilizes the principles of traditional Buddhist and Shinto mysticism to do the supernatural," the martial artist pointed out, as a clarification. "Some people boil it down to just yin and yang, but they also use the Five Elements Wheel, martial arts, mudras, mantras, Eastern astrology, and like a dozen other things. Basically, it's Eastern Magic, not that I like calling it that."

"You seem to dislike magic quite a lot," Konoka murmured wryly, desperately trying to put the horrifying idea of a rampaging wasp that could literally carry someone off out of her mind.

"Oh you have no idea," Ranma agreed, biting down on the bit of wafer that was left of her Pocky rather savagely before fishing another out of her pocket. "It's why I'm stuck needing to seal myself, why I have this gender-flipping curse, and why it's gotten completely out of hand. Not to mention about a dozen other random things that've gone wrong in the last decade or so.

"But yeah; I don't like magic. I'm great with _ki_, and don't mind it at all – it's natural, you know? Magic is just wrong. Nothing good ever comes from it."

Konoka frowned at those words, as well as the fact she'd missed where Ranma kept pulling and storing all these random things from _again_. "Well, what about good magic? Like wishes?"

Ranma's eye twitched faintly. Taking a deep breath to calm her sudden spike of irritation, the redhead looked around at her surroundings, noting they were passing into the more forested outskirts of the area Eva lived. It was another of the off-campus housing areas, but this one was more upscale than her own with actual houses rather than apartments. Alumni that continued on at Mahora, college students, and permanent residents that could afford the costs were the usual residents, Ranma figured, considering the expense that such luxury demanded in Japan. Still, it seemed that like the Kantō Magic Association had intertwined itself around Mahora like a vine; here too Western influences could be found as if they were the norm.

A part of her found that fundamentally distasteful, which brought her back to Konoka's inquiry. "To answer your question, wishes are dangerous. I almost had my sense of self erased and replaced with a fawning, brainless, sex-toy because some jackass who couldn't take no for an answer and had more ego than common sense got a wish one time."

Shocked at her friend's sudden venom, Konoka stopped dead in her tacks, eyes wide. "Oh… oh I'm so _sorry_, that's—"

"Forget it," Ranma interrupted, shaking her head to dislodge the unpleasant memory surrounding that debacle, and what she'd done to mitigate and complicate it. "It's in the past, and nothing you should be sorry about." Running her hand through her hair, the redhead sighed. "Look, I guess someone could wish for world peace or an end to hunger, but let's be realistic Kono-chan. People aren't that selfless. They have wants that they put before the people around them, all the time. Wishes like that would never get made.

"Besides that, let's think about how that kind of wish would play out. I'm not saying every wish out there is a Monkey's Paw waiting to happen, but after a while you see a pattern in how magic works. It twists things, corrupts them. Maybe it's human nature coming out in it, but I think it's just how magic is.

"I'd never wish for world peace, because I'm too afraid of magic twisting that wish into something horrible," she explained quietly, looking out over the path behind them. The roadway had turned uphill slightly some time ago, and the view over Mahora was quite pretty, despite the dark turn of her thoughts. Distantly she could see the lake surrounding Library Island as it reflected the midday sun, and the World Tree's many branches swaying in a breeze that didn't quite reach them so far away.

"Wishes like that are too much of a risk," she continued after a moment's pause. "Who's to say it wouldn't get misinterpreted it into killing off anyone or anything that would ever fight, or just stripping away that instinct? Of course, considering nature is all about a fight to survive, the chain of predator and prey, what would that mean?" Ranma let the light of horror build in Konoka's eyes as she realized where she was going with her explanation before making her next point. "Same thing with world hunger, you know? Would it be easier for magic to just make enough food for everyone and everything on Earth, or kill enough of people so that it didn—"

"Stop, just… stop." Konoka begged, head down with her hair hiding her eyes. She shook faintly as what Ranma didn't say circled about in her head like angry birds. She had no idea her friend had such a hard life; has suffered so much that she'd her point of view had twisted into something so cynical. She'd had hints of course; Ranma was _worldly_, compared to everyone else she knew her own age. There was a weight to her presence that didn't allude to someone who'd walked a hard path, but screamed such a proclamation from the rooftops. When she'd asked about wishes, she was thinking of things like out of fairytales, bedtime stories, and the happy idle musings of her childhood. Wishes were the foundation of fantasy; you made a wish to be a princess, or a warrior, or to be a hero. It was the crux of childhood, the cornerstone of imagination. To hear her friend had suffered so at such a thing; that she had been forced to consider that innocent idea of a simple want being magically fulfilled so critically left her feeling like someone had punched her in the stomach. She _hurt_ for her friend, and maybe worse, she hurt because a part of her realized that in keeping this friend, she'd loose something tenuous and vital that she'd treasured for so long.

A part of her was terrified that this cursed girl before her would turn her world into a place that was stripped of the rosy hue she'd lived in so long. Part of her was exultant that she'd found someone that would rip away those glasses so she could see the world beyond them clearly.

Some of her innocence had been lost the other day, but in truth that was an innocence she would have one day happily shed regardless. Intimacy – sex, she reminded herself – was something that was not only natural, but something she would someday do herself. Of course she wasn't thinking about it yet, not seriously at least, but she knew one day it wouldn't be the fantastic musings of a teenaged girl, but something real and visceral poised to irrevocably change her life. That she'd had someone to lean on, even if it was somewhat strained, had been a comfort she couldn't express at the time. She was grateful to Ranma; grateful that she was brutally honest, that she didn't seem to handle her like she'd break like so many others, that she would simply welcome her into her home without a second thought even if the cost could have proven impossible to pay.

She was no fool; she understood much of what Ranma hadn't said. Whatever was going on recently was something people shouldn't know about. Konoka wasn't sure what the cost of breaking that rule was, but considering how deeply the situation seemed to be rooted – with Negi-sensei and Eva-chan, and Ranma's tacit admittance that her grandfather was involved by pointing out his test – she had worried that it would be something terrible. Would they punish Ranma for being so open to her? Would her grandfather be angry? What about her father?

And she knew, deep down, that with the way her life was and how people treated her, that all the consequences of her stumbling on this hidden world would fall back on her new friend. Her friend that had already suffered so much, that had lived a life that left her with such a jaded view of the fantastic that she couldn't even think something so simple as a wish could be _good_.

_It broke her heart._

Ignoring all sense of personal space and propriety, Konoka launched herself at the redhead as she stood transfixed by her tears and clenched teeth. Tackling Ranma she clung to her and sought the only comfort she could at that moment – the ready and unconditional arms of this enigma named Ranma Saotome.

"I'm sorry," Konoka muttered blearily, sniffling. "I always seem to end up crying on you."

Ranma said nothing for a moment, instead choosing to look up at the sky from where she'd served as cushion for the distraught girl in her arms. Faintly, she noted that Konoka smelled slightly of soap and peaches; probably her shampoo, mulled by the scentless type she favored, she mused. Running her hands along Konoka's back to sooth her as best she could, Ranma sighed. "I'm sorry I upset you—"

"_You_ didn't upset me," the sniffling bundle in Ranma's arms muttered crossly, shutting her up instantly. "I should be thanking you. It was just… sometimes the things we realize aren't easy."

Reaching up, the redhead smoothed Konoka's hair with a tentative hand. "Still. I feel like I should say I'm sorry."

"Then be glad," Konoka murmured into her shoulder before sitting back, smiling a watery smile down at the tense young woman beneath her. "It means you're _kind_. I like that about you."

Ranma looked up at the girl resting on her hips; it was a position that on any other day she'd be mortified to be caught in. At that moment, however, she just smiled. "I think I can manage that."

"Good," Konoka murmured, blushing slightly as she herself considered their rather compromising position, and how natural Ranma's hands fit along her hips where they'd fallen. For a moment her mind's eye swapped the image below her to that of her cursed friend's male form, then back to the blushing, glazed-eyed redhead she'd shared a moment with only a day before. Then, before she could shake the images away, she was staring down at the shyly blushing face of her beloved friend, Setsuna—

"_Ojōsama… please. Be gentle."_

"Gwah!" Konoka scrambled off of Ranma as if she was made of fire, her face doing a fair impression itself. A faint portion of her mind not frantically trying to think of _anything else_ recalled a similar situation just a few minutes ago, involving a red-faced Ranma and a light pole. Despite herself the similarity caused her to giggle, as she looked back at her confused companion as she got up and dusted herself off.

Ranma, for her part, just blinked at Konoka as the girl reinforced that age-old truth she'd come to grips with back in Nerima; girls were strange. Instead of worrying on it too much, she fished out another stick of Pocky. "Um, you ok there?"

"Yes," the Dean's granddaughter answered after another fit of giggles, her emotions clearly still on a hair-trigger after yesterday's revelations and those of the night that followed. It made her feel silly, but then, she tended to feel that way anyway sometimes. "I was just thinking we're not so different at times."

Clearly confused, Ranma didn't argue the point – it wasn't that she disagreed, but she just didn't think she knew what Konoka meant. Arguing for the sake of arguing wasn't something she let herself do anymore. "Hmm, if you say so."

Her smile turning secretive and sly, Konoko tucked her hand into Ranma's. She noted how even in a female form, it was larger than her own, warm, and lacked the softness of her own hands. Ranma's were the hands of someone who reached out and grabbed life, ignoring the struggle and how rough it was. Ranma's hand felt _safe_.

She liked it.

Ranma occasionally peered at their joined hands as they walked the last little distance to Eva's home, but she didn't move to reclaim hers from Konoka's grip. She also noted with some mild exasperation the clinking coming from her left hand – where he _mala_ was wrapped – that sounded suspiciously like chuckling if one listened closely.

"Pervert oni," she muttered quietly, if fondly, before more firmly clasping Konoka's hand.

–

The house that Ranma's directions lead to was a small cottage style home, with a brief deck and a sharply angled roof. Rustic but austere, it seemed to fit the diminutive girl in the martial artist's mind, as she considered their previous meetings. Eva always seemed to give off an air of being older than her appearance, and something about a Western-styled dwelling just fit the blonde girl's image.

Ranma pushed aside her nearly-instinctive knee-jerk reaction to such thoughts, burying that prejudice somewhere it could be called up and vented later, on more appropriate targets. "How well to you know Eva, Kono-chan?"

"Hm," the girl in question considered the question for a moment before shrugging. "She's been in our class for years, I guess, but I've only rarely spoken to her outside of it. She keeps mostly to herself, or in the last few years, with Karakuri-san. She seems friendly with a few people, like Hakase-san, but I've never spent much time with her."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it," came a familiar voice from above them. Ranma knew what she'd find, but regardless peered up to the overlooking balcony set above the home's small deck. Leaning on the railing there stood the diminutive form of their classmate, Evangeline K. McDowell, her blonde hair nearly blinding in the sun, contrasting the black dress she wore that seemed to practically suck up the light near her. The effect was somewhat dizzying Ranma noted, on a clear day at noon. "I'm not so easily offended. Your grandfather practically forbade me to speak with you, not that I really care for his little demands."

"Um…"

Eva waved off Konoka's discomfort, her smile a slight thing with a cruel edge. "If you're both here, it seems that Ranma's pulled you into something entertaining." Turning, the blonde opened made to step back into the door behind her, but turned and peered over her shoulder. "Well? Don't stand out here all day – come in."

As the upper door closed, Ranma couldn't help the snort of amusement that escaped her. "Yeah, should have expected that. Anyway, let's not keep the brat waiting," matching words to actions, the redhead pulled Konoka along behind her, the other girl's nervousness making her hesitate for a brief moment before Ranma's determination swept her onward.

The inside of Eva's home proved little surprise to Ranma, having seen a number of different styles of architecture on her travels, while at her side Konoka peered curiously at the accents and little touches that made a house a home. The two slipped off their shoes and made their way inside to find Evangeline sitting at a table in the main room, with Chachamaru at her side. "Well, I can't honestly say I'm surprised that Ranma's managed to tangle someone else up in her mess, but that she'd catch the Dean's granddaughter?" the seemingly younger girl stifled a laugh behind her hand, but the sharpness of her gaze was lessened not at all, "Fufufu… I knew you'd make waves, but this? This is absolutely _grand_."

"Have a seat," the blonde offered, her mirth clear in the smirk she continued to wear. "Chachamaru's tea is some of the best at Mahora."

Slumping into the wide couch across the table from Eva and Chachamaru, Ranma scooted aside to allow Konoka room as well. The couch was a massive squashy thing that was difficult for Ranma to get comfortable on, as she sank some distance into the cushion. Definitely something her previous teacher Hinako would like, but not to her own preference at all. Grimacing, the martial artist rearranged herself, much to her host's quiet amusement. "Speaking of Chachamaru, you ok? After yesterday?"

Her metallic 'ears' perking slightly, the robotic girl nodded to Ranma's question, the gesture softening Evangeline's expression slightly as Chachamaru poured the two guests tea. "Yes, I am doing quite well. I had expected once hostilities commenced with Springfield-sensei, that I would accrue some significant damage. However, thanks to your intervention, such damage was minimalized."

"Glad to hear it," Ranma replied shortly, sparing the artificial girl a slight smile, before turning to their host. "Alright, obviously some things have changed since yesterday. I wanted to keep my meeting with you, but I also promised Kono-chan here an explanation about some things. If we can, I'd like to combine the two."

Eva hummed as she sat, her glass of tea held against her lips. The slight steam of the tea's heat wafted before her face, but she showed little reaction to it, as her stare was steady and measuring. "Hmm. As I said before, Konoe wanted me to keep my distance from his precious granddaughter. However," she countered, smiling toothily over her cup at the cursed martial artist, "I can hardly be faulted if one of her friends has her tag along, and things that are discussed that he's already agreed to, are simply said in her presence."

"Sneaky," Ranma noted, with a grim smile. "I like it."

"Um," Konoka peered between the two, knowing she was missing something critical, and feeling that it had something to do with her grandfather. She had some small issues with the older man, mostly in how he seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in setting up marriage interviews for her, but that was something she could tolerate as long as it remained a casual sort of thing. Currently, they had an understanding in that regard; Konoka would continue to attend the Omiai her grandfather arranged, but no lasting arrangements for marriage would be made. She'd made it quite clear what her father's view on such things were, and despite her grandfather being head of the Konoe family, her father Eishun made it a point that the old man's influence was to extend _only_ to education.

Looking between Eva and Ranma, she could tell that neither of them shared her mostly positive view of her grandfather. "That is, Ranma's not going to get in trouble for this, will she…?"

Eva considered the question with a raised brow, before laughing quietly again. "Oh, you are a precious little thing. No, all things considered I doubt there will be any significant punishment leveled against Saotome. However, this will likely incite your grandfather's ire."

"Meh," Ranma replied, as Konoka worried at her teacup. "The old man doesn't really scare me. I've seen – and fought – older."

"I wouldn't consider the abuse of the elderly a virtue, Saotome," the blonde countered, earning her a glare. "But regardless, you have little to really worry on, all things considered. He could hardly argue the point of exposing his precious granddaughter to magic, when he himself appointed that magi brat Springfield to the post of teacher for her. Then, of course, there's the rest of 3-A…" she mused, clicking her tongue in mild annoyance.

Konoka blinked at that, confused until she considered how she'd hardly suspected Ranma to be something out of the ordinary till the other day, much less her teacher, or her roommate Asuna for that matter. How many others in her class were just as different? Clearly her grandfather knew something, and if she wasn't mistaken with how her memories were beginning to show, her father was in the thick of it as well. "Who else in our class?"

Eva clicked her tongue again, sipping her tea as she regarded the young Konoe with a disparaging glare. "Not my place to say, or inclination to do so. Sufficed to say, neither that brat teacher nor your new friend are wholly unique among your classmates, or Mahora in general."

_Mahora in general…?_ "What? You mean the entire—"

"C'mon Eva, don't tease her so much," Ranma groused, setting her tea down with a rough 'clink' of abused china. "It's not like she's not going to figure it out soon enough anyway, and I'm not about to screw with the one good friend I have, keeping a bunch of secrets that don't matter in the long run."

"Oh? Is that so? And you don't worry at all about Enforcers coming and giving you a fur coat?"

Ranma sneered at that, waving the smaller girl's implied warning aside. "If they come, I'll deal with them." Turning to the confused Konoka, she continued in a less confrontational tone, "What Eva's beating around the bush about, is that Mahora's the center of a Magic Association. It's based here."

"And your grandfather is warden of the asylum," Evangeline cut in, earning her a cross look from Ranma. "Specifically, Konoemon Konoe, your grandfather, is head of the Kantō Magic Association. Which is a curious situation, as your father, Eishun Konoe, is head of the Kansai Onmyōdō Association."

Konoka stared at the small blonde that had shared her classes for years, her mouth seemingly developing a desert climate suddenly. Finding it hard to breathe, much less swallow the sudden knot of _something_ lodged just above her heart, the young woman bent forward as she worked to keep her focus. It wasn't to be.

Some while later, Konoka awoke to the feeling of a gentle hand slowly combing through her hair and the unmistakable feeling of a lap beneath her head. Unusual, however, was the amount of muscle she could feel sometimes coil and tense beneath her when her unnamed pillow shifted. Keeping her eyes closed for the moment, she listened to the conversation going on just above her.

"…mean that he didn't tell me that on purpose?"

"I doubt Konoe would risk you becoming involved with what is essentially a rival faction," the cultured, if foreign, inflection belonging to Evangeline responded. "Regardless, you came to Mahora for information about your curse; as much as Kansai would have been a better fit for your current abilities with their greater breadth of knowledge dealing with Eastern Magic, they would be essentially useless in that endeavor."

A terse sigh ruffled her bangs, as the hand idling in her hair paused, the fingers tensing for a moment before resuming their soothing motion. "I guess you're right," Ranma replied darkly, confirming Konoka's guess about who's lap she was currently resting on. Regardless, she kept her breathing even and her eyes closed, unwilling to relinquish her comfortable situation. "Goemon did send me here, not Kansai. It just irks me, you know? Having things like that kept from me. What if one day I want to learn more about Onmyōdō? I doubt Kansai'd let me just waltz in and use their libraries if it was known I was working with old man Konoe here."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Eva countered, the catty smile Konoka imagined she wore evident in her voice. "Things have come to a moderate calm these days. It's been twenty years since there were open hostilities, though that doesn't mean the two get along at all. At most, there are unofficial skirmishes here and there, at best, a tense sort of cold war." There was a 'clink' of a teacup, before Evangeline continued. "There's also new developments to consider… I mean, you do have a lap full of the head of Kansai's daughter. I think that would be good for something, at least."

Again, Ranma's hand tensed, this time shaking in annoyance as well. Stifling the urge to reach up and take that hand, Konoka waited instead. She wanted to know what Ranma would say to Evangeline's taunt. Wanted to know more than she honestly felt should be reasonable, with how her chest suddenly felt tighter, her stomach seemingly full of angry moths.

"You think I'd use Kono-chan like that?" There was a quiet, vicious edge to Ranma's words that had she not been focusing on keeping her breathing even, would have made her gasp. "I know her dad's the head of Kansai now, but I'd never use her like that."

Evangeline chuckled at Ranma's reply, and Konoka could practically feel the blonde's eyes on her. "Well, I'm sure she's quite happy to know that, considering the blush she's currently sporting."

"Eh? Eh! Kono-chan?"

Jerking upright as if she was spring-loaded, Konoka sat up with a sudden lurch that left her hair falling about her face and shoulders in a disheveled mess. She ignored it in favor of trying to get her traitorous emotions back under control. "Sorry, I was still a bit dizzy," she lied, gulping down great lungful's of air to steady herself. "How long was I out?"

"Just a few minutes; nothing to worry about," the blonde girl replied, dismissing her concern with her usual disdainful tone. "You didn't miss anything of consequence. Saotome and I were simply discussing matters irrelevant."

Looking between the two, Konoka frowned but kept her peace on whether she believed that. Instead she shoved the conversation into a place she wasn't so uncomfortable, with the kind of tact she'd grown used to coming from Ranma, "Well, that's good. I'm still waiting for my explanation, though."

"Heh," Ranma laughed quietly, shaking her head. "Guess that means it's my turn.

"I'd start at the beginning, but that'd be boring. I can sum up about the first ten years of my life with one word: training. My father, he was a damn good martial artist. Probably one of the best in the world, but he knew there were things he lacked. I didn't know it on our training trip, but there were things he was doing with me, that'd he'd done years later himself, knowing that starting me off early would only give me a stronger foundation to work with.

"One of the things he did early on was unlock my potential for _ki_." Looking over to a rapt Konoka, Ranma chuckled quietly. "Kono-chan, do you know what _ki_ is? Really is?"

Shaking her head, the young woman replied, "I only know what anime and the manga's I've read have said about it. Most of the time they just leave it as a mystery."

Ranma considered Konoka's most likely exposures to those media before beginning to explain. "The best way I recall being taught about _ki_, was that it was the energy of life in motion. It's the vital spark in living things that's both fuel and product of simply living.

"However, you can cultivate it. You can work your body and mind for years, and find that epiphany where they meet. Once you do that, you can begin to actively harness the power of your spirit, and the strength of your body."

Peering down at her hands, Ranma took a deep breath, losing it in a shaky sigh. "That way takes years. Sometimes decades. There are masters out there that have been refining their Art for their whole lives, but they might never touch their _ki_.

"There is, however, one almost guaranteed way to bring someone to that point where they can feel their _ki_, and it becomes something more than just that mysterious something else inside you. Usually people forget it about it after, or just write it off as adrenaline, but a martial artist that's been studying would _know_," Taking a deep breath, Ranma faltered, her hands shaking again. Glaring down at them, the martial artist practically snarled at the physical sign of her weakness. "You hear about it sometimes. People get put in danger, or find the people they care about threatened. Fathers ignoring fires to save their kids on the top floor of a burning building, coming out without so much as a scorch mark. Wives peeling jammed car doors off to get a husband out of a wrecked car."

Ranma fumbled at her pocket, finding her snacks but with her shaking hands, breaking the one she'd pulled out. "Damn it," she muttered, tossing the two halves onto the nearby saucer with her tea cup. "Pops figured he'd kill two birds with one stone," the cursed girl continued, eyes distant in memory. "He'd found something about an unbeatable technique, a sort of ultimate style shortcut. If I'd been older, maybe I would've talked him out of it, but I was maybe six. I didn't know how stupid his ideas could get then. He was my Pops – he was making me the best. I already had a record of beating nearly anyone but the heads of Dojos by that point, so I had no reason to distrust him

"So, we tried his shortcut," Ranma managed between clenched teeth. She hated remembering this, hated it more than anything. She would gladly face Herb, Happosai, Khu Lon, even Saffron again rather than remember this. "It didn't work the first time. Or the fifth time. But, eventually it did… as well as it could.

"I went berserk. Nearly killed him. I was covered in blood and filth and turning everything he put between us into kindling. Eventually I just ran out of steam, but my head… I wasn't driving anymore, if you get where I'm coming from." The cursed martial artist ran a hand through her hair, taking a shaky breath. "Eventually I calmed down, and Pops stitched me up. From then on, it was easier. I could always feel this well of energy inside me.

"Pops got distant after that. I think he knew he'd screwed up, bad. But, we never stopped training. From then on it took a steep turn, and where before I was just running for endurance, now I was carrying a hundred pounds and taunting wolves with raw meat while outpacing them and their flanking maneuvers." She ignored the incredulous and horrified looks she was getting, chuckling at the memories.

"That's pretty much the trend from that point forward. Push my limits constantly, never let up, turn everything into a training exercise. Eating became speed and precision training; if I was slow or couldn't aim my chopsticks, I went to sleep hungry. When I was asleep, he'd throw things at me, so that I'd learn to subconsciously keep track of my surroundings. Walking was awareness and balance, since he was always ambushing me somehow." Seeing the girl's confusion on that, Ranma elaborated. "He knew I'd get used to him doing it, so he'd piss off people in the towns we were in, and aim them my way."

Konoka didn't know how to feel about what she was hearing. On one hand, it was horrifying. But, just looking at Ranma, she could tell these were _happy_ memories, for her friend. Somehow. She didn't understand, but worse, she had no idea how to react. Sparing a glance at her classmate Evangeline, she gained nothing; the blonde was simply staring at Ranma with the same calculating look she seemed to always have.

"Well, up till Jusenkyo, anyway," Ranma groused. "One of my friends later, who lives near the springs, explained how she thought they worked, but the Dean mentioned they were… I think he called then an engine of death and transformation magic."

Evangeline's gaze sharpened at that. "Death magic, he said? Not Shadow or just dark, but specifically Death Magic?"

Ranma nodded, eying the blonde. "Yeah, he was aware of them."

"I've come across references to Jusenkyo in passing, in my studies," the smaller girl offered, gaze hooded as she nibbled at her thumbnail idly. "The pools there are fed by a spring that's charged by some mechanism, leaving them lacking a fundamental balance. They draw at the life force around them, causing people and animals to drown.

"Once the pool has a victim, from then on, anything that falls into that pool becomes cursed so that they change into the form of the thing that drowned. Cold water would activate the curse, while warm would for a time, change the victim back."

Again, Ranma was subject to Evangeline's gaze, her blue eyes too sharp to belong to someone so young. "This would be your cursed form?" Seeing Ranma nod, the small girl sighed leaning on her hand. "I see. And this is the form with the _ki_ imbalance. That would make sense, then."

"How so?"

"As you probably guessed from your little spat with the Springfield brat, I'm the 'vampire' of Sakura Lane," the diminutive girl explained, getting nods from the two girls. It had definitely come up during the aborted fight between Negi and Chachamaru, and both had been there to hear the accusations and allegations that the teacher and Asuna were working under, as well as the instigator Chamo's urgings. "What's important about that, is that it makes me a magical creature. I can sense magic with much more precision than a human mage. What I noticed about you that day over coffee was that your uncursed form, your normal body, has a much higher potential for magic than I would have expected."

Ranma hissed at that, shaking her head in denial. "No, that can't be right. No one's ever said anything like that before. Why would that be true; how could you even tell? I was supposed to show you the curse today, since you've not seen it work. How can you say something like that without even seeing it?"

Evangeline spared the distraught martial artist a flat glare before her gaze softened. "I can see the flows of magic in you, how they move, and the shadow of your normal form."

From beside Ranma, Konoka reached over and tentatively laid a hand on the clenched fist of her recent friend. "Ranma, please… relax. Maybe there's an answer here."

"Indeed," Evangeline murmured. "When your curse became erratic and nothing seemed to help, you then used the heated waters of Jusendo, correct?" Seeing the redhead nod, the vampire clicked her tongue. "So many things all playing with this one strand of magic. No wonder it's become so tangled.

"I don't know what the heated pure waters were meant to do, but the result was clear. They took what potential you had, and drastically accelerated it. As it was a supernatural effect, it began with the supernatural in you – your _ki_. This excess of _ki_ in your cursed form required a balance, even if it wasn't an obvious one," the diminutive blonde surmised, leaning forward over her peaked fingers. "The curse itself follows a given pattern; things that interfere with it, have to pay a price to do so. A balance must always be maintained. To offset the curse being 'stubborn' as I believe you described it to the Dean, your natural form was invested with more and more potential for magic. This potential allowed the curse to strengthen, essentially."

Furrowing her brow in thought, Ranma came to the most direct solution she could with the material given. "If I could remove that potential, it would counter the curse? It'd stop being so hard to trigger either way?"

Eva tilted her head back and forth, considering the martial artist's drastically minimalized summation. "Perhaps," she allowed, before holding up a hand to forestall Ranma's excitement. "Or it could permanently lock it. Without some potential for magic to affect you, the curse cannot function. All things have a minimal amount of magic within them, just as all things possess _ki_ or chi."

With a terse sound, Ranma stood and began pacing. "So, what can I do?"

Evangeline spread her hands out before her. "With this much? Nothing. We need to run tests before we know anything for certain," the little vampire declared, an unholy light entering her eyes. "Now, I think it's time to see this curse directly!" Clapping her hands, she began laughing quietly, which didn't last long before she was cackling madly while rubbing her hands together.

Ranma stared back at the little vampire and wondered if perhaps a lifetime as a girl with wings wasn't such a bad thing after all.

–

It was nearly dark when the two girls emerged from Evangeline's home, and neither looked unweathered from the experience. "Worst. Day. Ever," Ranma muttered, swaying on her feet slightly before catching her balance. Her hair resembled something birds had attempted to nest in, there were water and other stains on her clothes, and a pallor about the redhead that spoke of bone-deep weariness.

"Do you think there are any vampire hunters in our class?" Konoka asked with an uncharacteristically sharp tone from Ranma's side. "I mean, I'm sure she was just trying to help – wait. No. No, I don't actually believe that at all."

Despite the amount of pain and weariness she was currently dealing with, Ranma chuckled at Konoka's ire. "It's fine. Really. I get what she was trying to do back there."

"Oh, I do as well," the Dean's granddaughter agreed with cold evenness. "I've never seen someone make such a convincing argument for the promotion of vampire extermination before, really."

Reaching over, Ranma wrapped an arm around her irate friend and began the long walk back to her own apartment. "Don't worry about it, Kono-chan. Eva was a bit rough, but I'm happy for it. If she can figure something out from all that, that could help me, I'd gladly do it again."

Konoka spared her slightly punch-drunk friend with a gimlet eye. "You _are_ doing it again. On _Wednesday_."

That brought the martial artist up short, her expression turning from one of dawning relief, into one of dawning horror. "W-Wait, what? When did I agree to that?!"

"I think it was half an hour into that session when she had you strapped to a metal table," Konoka recalled, her expression more severe than Ranma had ever seen. "You know, where she kept spraying you over and over with boiling and freezing water, with the electrical probes clamped to your… er," the girl lost her composure there, as her mouth caught up with her memory and there was a general fault in the interface between the two. "Your chest," she finally managed, looking away with a twitching eye.

"Oh. I don't even remember that part."

Konoka _twitched_. "Still… I suppose if she does have anything to offer after this…"

Ranma shook off what memories she did have of Eva's… _testing_… to try and calm her friend down. "Look, it's alright. That wasn't even on my top hundred bad things list."

"That does not make it better!"

Sighing, the martial artist turned Konoka to face her. "Konoka. Listen. I knew Eva was something of a monster going into this. You learn to pick up on the little details that tell you someone's a sadistic witch that only gleans some measure of personal satisfaction and worth from the suffering and embarrassment of others after the kind of things I've dealt with.

"Despite all that, she's also a six-hundred year old vampire," Ranma reminded the girl whose eyes she was peering into, seeing the hard edge of righteous fury dim as she spoke. "She's got enough experience to know what she's looking for, and how to find it. If there's some chance of there being a way to fix my curse, then yeah; I'll go back. I'll go back a hundred times."

Konoka loosed the thread of her anger, feeling small and helpless without it to bolster her. "But… she hurt you, Ranma. You were screaming…"

"Sometimes you have to hurt to keep going forward," the martial artist dismissed, far too easily, the Dean's granddaughter decided. "Besides, we got more out of it than just some stuff I don't remember and tests about my curse, right?"

"Perhaps," Konoka murmured, looking away. "I understand what's going on now, at least. And I have an idea what my father is so worried about, here."

"And…?"

"I know what it means to be a mage, and what secrets I need to keep," she grudgingly admitted, clutching at the massive tome she had clutched beneath her arm. She had only the most rudimentary understanding of the broader scope of that simple statement, but that was why she'd be returning with Ranma on Wednesday as well. It was also why she was carrying the book Evangeline had lent 'Ranma' on magic. That Evangeline had gleefully pointed out she had quite a lot of potential herself was a shock. That Ranma had asked, on her behalf, for a book that was a good primer for a beginner was even more so. She knew how poorly her friend felt about mages.

Ranma, however, was not done making her point. "And?"

Konoka raked her mind for what else the redhead could mean, before realization dawned. Drawing in on herself a bit, Konoka murmured, quieter, "and maybe a way to approach Secchan."

Nodding, the martial artist relented. "Knowing that your dad runs the Kansai Onmyōdō Association puts some things in perspective. With her being part of the Shinmei-ryū, I can guess she was probably training back when you two were kids, since I know they're based back in Kyoto."

"You've worked with them? As a martial artist?"

Laughing quietly, Ranma shook her head in a negative. "Oh no, not at all. Pops had a list of martial schools we would _not_ challenge or try to learn the techniques of. Your friend's is one of them."

Konoka blinked in confusion at that. Considering what she knew of Ranma's father from her stories, it didn't make sense. "But why?"

Peering up at the sky Ranma hummed in thought. Here, some distance from the campus, she could actually see the stars… it was nice. Maybe she'd come up some when it wasn't just to visit Eva to stargaze some. "I used to think it was because they were an armed style school. Pops didn't want to focus on weapons, and actually only let me learn what armed styles I know to make counters for them.

"Now, I wonder," the martial artist murmured, clenching her left hand in muted, distant anger. Some of the things that the little vampire had said, when she'd learned it was the Neko-ken that Genma had subjected her to, made better sense. She was just glad the brat had waited till Konoka was out of the room to mention them.

'Possession,' she mused angrily to herself. If the Neko-ken had worked the way it was supposed to, she would have had a cat yōkai bound within her, created by all the suffering, death, and desperation of the hundreds of cats involved. If the technique had created that yōkai, but she hadn't been strong enough to resist its control, it would have destroyed her mind and made her little more than puppet shell for an evil spirit of Genma's making.

The only thing that Genma's botched attempt had managed to do, however, was imprint on her a cat-themed berserk state, a phobia to trigger it, and unlock her _ki_. Considering the usual blowback from Genma's more elaborate failures, Ranma was actually glad of the current outcome. As she'd told Konoka before – things could have been worse.

Of course, she doubted Genma really knew what he'd done, other than some likely misinterpreted jargon gleaned from the scroll he'd learned the Neko-ken training method from. It would explain why he'd avoided not just the Shinmei-ryū, after that point, but any other well-known demon-hunter families as well. It might also explain why he'd been dodging his wife as well… if one of Ranma's suspicions wasn't a mistake.

Pulling her neglected Pocky box from a pocket, Ranma tore open one of the small packets inside the box, offering one of the snacks to Konoka. "Anyway, are you going to stay the night again?"

Caught off guard, the Dean's granddaughter sputtered and nearly dropped the Pocky she'd just picked out of the box. "I, that is, er… auu."

"It's fine," Ranma assured her, laughing at the girl's stricken expression. "You can have the bed again. I was just wondering."

"I really should talk with Asuna-chan and Negi-sensei," Konoka murmured, having gotten caught up in the wake of Ranma's day. True, she hadn't planned on doing so until after the weekend, but she did plan on thinking on what she'd say. So far, she'd spared it barely a thought since waking up.

At her side, Ranma nodded, "Yeah, but make sure you do it with a clear head. Don't go into it angry. I'm sure they've had some time to cool down, maybe talk with your gramps some." Chuckling, the marital artist folded her hands behind her head with a rueful smile around her snack. "Something I wish I'd been better at when it mattered."

"Do you think they'll listen?"

Ranma shrugged. She wanted to assure her friend that her roommates would see reason, but it wasn't something experience told her to expect. Reasoning with people that had some issue with her never worked in Nerima, and her track record in Mahora wasn't too stellar either, considering her first meeting with the Dean.

As the two were rounding one of the bends that let the lane they were on turn toward the greater portion of the campus, Ranma paused, humming quietly. "Hey, you know? I think I left something back at Eva's." Reaching into her pocket, the redhead took out a box of Pocky, and her keys. "You go on ahead, Kono-chan."

"Eh?" Catching the tossed items while fumbling her book a moment, Konoka blinked in confusion as Ranma turned with a wave and started walking back the way they'd just come. "But—"

"Why don't you give those roommates of yours a call, just to let them know you're alright when you get back? Oh, and be sure to use the key. I don't want you getting zapped."

With that, the martial artist turned around the bend and out of sight, leaving the Dean's granddaughter alone on the lane. The streetlights were bright, but there were patches of dark like faint rungs on a ladder along the way, as the afternoon deepened into twilight. Those lights flickered and steadied as the sun dropped lower, and the winds turned slightly colder against her skin. Above her, the sky turned slowly with a canopy of stars she knew would dim as the campus lights shined back up at them, and in the far distance, she could make out the great dark shadow of the World Tree rising like a brief mountain.

It was a nice night, Konoka knew, and one she'd normally enjoy going on a walk out in. But for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something _wrong_ about it. "Fine," she eventually muttered, rolling her eyes as she started the small trek back to Ranma's apartment. "But I swear you better have a good reason for then when you get back."

Not very distant, the martial artist in question chuckled quietly, leaning her head back against one of the large trees as she did so. "Yeah, yeah, Kono-chan. I hear you," she murmured to the unhearing night.

Those trees she stood beneath were nearly as regular as the lamps that light the way. Old, thick of foliage, and broad of limb, they formed a natural barrier between the lane and the sparse forest those ways contained. They also managed to make a decent screen for the forest, obscuring it from the roads that made up their border. Viewed from the campus, she imagined there'd be little way someone could see along those lanes, due to them. In other words, they made an excellent place for an ambush. Between her lips she rolled a fresh stick of Almond Crush, the last of her current box. Stretching her arms above her, the redhead closed her eyes, grinned, and waited.

She didn't need to do so for very long. Across the way a lone figure dropped from the trees, landing silently and taking a familiar stance as they faced the apparently unconcerned redhead. For her part, Ranma simply cracked open an eye and let her grin stretch into a familiar smirk. Kicking slightly off the tree behind her, she muttered a quiet greeting as she tucked her hands into her pockets, "Took you long enough…"

"Setsuna Sakurazaki."

–

AN: Yes, you've just been cliffhanged. Yes, the Pocky becomes relevant. No, I'm not making promises about future updates. Yes, this is entirely Lordsfire's fault. Yes, I also wrote this on a whim in a day without any kind of proofing /beta. Nyeh.

Oh, and losing your writing dictionary edits and source materials? Tends to inspire _hours_ of rage.


	8. Chapter 8

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

AN: Subtle. Like a _chainsaw_.

–

Chapter Eight

–

It was the sort of scene a movie producer could only dream about; its imperfections making it even more ideal. The moon wasn't full, but the light was bright and shone strongly on the scene, nearly making the streetlights that dotted the lane unnecessary. Cherry trees shed their petals with the small breezes, but those came irregularly, so that brief spray of fallen pink, paled to silver in the moonlight, was all the more poignant for being rare. The two figures weren't matched in the slightest; one was the very picture of a swordswoman, the other appearing little more than a vagrant ruffian. The former, with her yukata tucked into her hakama, her traditional haircut bound up on one side in a tufted knot, and her hand wrapped firmly around the whitewood sheathe of a simple blade, was the picture of a heroic protagonist. The latter could have been her foil, with her stained and rumpled shirt with a Mandarin collar left untucked over a pair of loose, baggy, cargo pants, and hair that looked like it had been left in that strange unkempt state that could either be a sign of apathy in its style, or deliberately mussed to achieve what was sometimes known as 'sex hair'.

Ranma eyed her quiet classmate with a kind of quiet, expectant glee that one could easily find hovering about children who were promised a new toy when their parents arrived home. It was the face you could see when play stopped, the sound of car doors audible despite being beyond the home's walls, as the reality of what was about to happen dawned. The corner of her mouth refused to remain still, crooking despite her and taking the small stick of wafer she held in her teeth with it on occasion.

For her part, Setsuna was the picture of tranquil, leashed potential. Her gaze was even, her posture steady, and her hands still where they lingered. One, gripping the shirasaya of her sword, the other loosely at her side, ready and poised to move at a moment's notice. Her expression gave nothing away, and her dark eyes were still, never moving from those of the young woman who seemed so eager for her arrival.

"So," Ranma began, her energy having restored itself enough in the last small while to give her a nervous sort of unease that she bled off by pacing in a wide arc around the recently arrived Setsuna. "You finally show yourself."

If her quiet classmate had anything to say to that, it was kept to herself. Dark brown eyes continued to track the martial artist, however, and her body turned to keep the redhead at her profile as she circled like a languid shark.

"You know, I kind of figured the old man would have me watched. It only makes sense, really," the cursed young woman continued, her steps deceptively graceful for such idle talk. "It would be stupid to not have people watching someone like me; especially considering _who_ I keep company with."

_There_. The slightest twitch of a muscle below Setsuna's right eye. Ranma's grin doubled.

Changing direction suddenly, Ranma paced back the way she'd come, the distance kept even and equal. Where she stepped, small eddies of air disrupted by the sharp motions of her feet blew the errant cherry blossoms away, leaving a clear path to show her footsteps. "Up in the bell towers. Atop nearby buildings. In the trees just up and above the Baraen-sō. Hiding in the forest here, between the lanes," each tick on Ranma's list was punctuated with another step, as she kept her path.

If her words this time had an effect on the stoic Shinmei-ryū student, she didn't show it.

"I know your partner is watching right now, with her gun scopes and binoculars," Ranma commented almost idly, if one ignored the fierce, expectant gleam in her eye. "Just like I know you've been doing, pacing my steps every time I'm out in Mahora."

"You are correct," the swordswoman stated, simply.

Ranma nodded amicably, happy to move things along. "And I bet, you did more than watch. How close were you? Could you hear me? Could you hear _us_?"

There was a faint rattle as a tremor ran down Setsuna's arm, and into her held sword.

"And what do you think about all that?" Setsuna's eyes went wide as the martial artist seemed to materialize inside her personal space, casually leaning against her side as if they were a couple friends speaking about the weather or sports. "You were there that day when we were outside the Baraen-sō. You saw the screw-up with the brat teacher and her roommate. You know she was there when I talked with Eva."

Setsuna took a rapid step back, unsurprised that the sudden lack of her support from where the martial artist was leaning against her did nothing to upset Ranma's balance. In fact, she turned the motion into a slow walk to approach her, again. "I do not see your point," she hedged, taking up her own pacing now, to keep a wary distance from the disturbing redhead.

"No? Oh c'mon!" Ranma gestured about herself widely, indicating the whole of Mahora with the simple sweep of a hand. "I've practically handed it to you! I've been trying to set this up since the day she bawled her eyes out in front of the inn!"

"Wait, what?"

"You're yōjimbo, yeah?" Ranma asked, receiving a startled blink in response. "I kind of put it together after everything. I mean, you were there when the Dean pulled his crap in that arena. You knew what I was capable of, but still ended up watching me.

"The other girl I could understand. She wasn't there. She didn't see me go all… unhinged at her teacher; unlike you," the martial artist admitted with some small discomfort at the memory and her lack of restraint that day. "But you? Why _you_?"

Setsuna frowned, feeling exposed by the supposedly dim martial artist and the direction this line of conversation was going. From all reports, Ranma wasn't supposed to be this observant. Sure, the gender-cursed girl was an amazing prodigy at martial arts, but nothing the Dean had supplied her and Mana with suggested this degree of situational awareness was something they would have to worry about. Worse, it seemed to be aimed almost specifically at _her_. "The Dean trusts in my abilities, as well as your tacit agreement to be on good behavior."

Ranma knew she'd pay for this lapse in her public persona, but honestly, Konoka was a sweet girl, and it wasn't like the Dean and his lot really trusted her anyway. The fact he'd not mentioned the overwatch put on duty to keep an eye on her said as much, despite her own status as being a part of Mahora's 'Special Security' squad. Worse, considering the two girls that had been shadowing her in those times she wasn't in class were also on the _same squad_. 'Left and right hand, yeah right,' she groused to herself.

She could understand it, to a degree. Maybe her 'coworkers' wanted to observe her, before introducing themselves. This had occurred to her the first time she'd picked up the traces they left, after being spotted by Suzumebachi. She'd slipped notice and visited the few hides her Shikigami had pointed out at that point, to get an idea who was watching her. Putting the pieces together wasn't that hard, considering she shared classes with both girls, and they weren't the most subtle people in the world.

Mana might give no indication she was some kind of weird gun nut shrine priestess, but there was exactly one shrine in the area run by people named Tatsumiya, and she knew the kinds of tells that came from work at a shrine. They were just as obvious as gun oil and powder; the stuff got on your hands, inevitably, and it stained. And _smelled_.

The girl with the sniper rifle she could understand, once she put away her incredulity at _sniper rifle!?_ but the little Shinmei-ryū girl who wasn't allowed to get involved that first day? Why her? Various things had occurred to Ranma, from on-the-job training to maybe putting her at ease so she didn't give anything away in classes. Basically, let her see the scary martial artist lady go about her day, and prove she wasn't some kind of boogeyman. But it didn't fit. Not once she started actually watching how Sakurazaki moved and handled herself.

And who she looked at.

Of course, she'd never have noticed half what she had, Ranma knew, if she'd not spent literally years dealing with lunatics, assassins, love-sick psychopaths, and stalkers of every stripe known. Nerima – some days she couldn't decide whether to be thankful for her time there, or curse it more than Jusenkyo.

Once she noticed who Sakurazaki watched, then things got clear. "You knew I'd be in classes with Konoka," Ranma countered Setsuna's argument regarding the Dean. "You knew I'd be around the girl you were sent here to watch over – who you've always watched over – and considering what you'd seen, you decided to get proactive.

"And then I started spending more time with her, and it just reinforced what you were already doing," the martial artist prompted, her smile returning. "I'm pretty impressed actually. You two are good at what you do."

"Yet, you still knew we were there." Setsuna found no real reason to deny it at this point. It was a pointless argument for various reasons now.

"I'm the best," Ranma countered immediately, but without boast or bravado. It was a simple statement given with the kind of confident acceptance of a fundamental truth. She could have stated 'gravity pulls things down' or 'water is kind of wet' with the same tone and surety. "But that's not important. What's important is…

"What are you going to do about it?"

—

From her perch above Mahora, Mana Tatsumiya watched the progress of someone she was expecting to see, but frowned once she noted something off about the situation. True, she was expecting Konoka to be out walking that night, considering what she'd been briefed on by the Dean that morning, but there were elements wholly wrong with this picture.

One, the girl was alone. She'd left with Ranma earlier that day, and she knew how Konoka worked, for the most part. She was a rather cheerful little thing that liked her friends and for the most part, was still in that 'naïve schoolgirl' phase of life. Having never been there herself, Mana didn't really understand it beyond psychological profiles and assessments. Being raised in a Private Military Company would do that for you.

Two, she was clearly irritated about something, and though Mana had classed her as a 'typical schoolgirl' some time back, Konoka expressing open negativity was rare. The girl wasn't shallow, but she tended toward optimism and looking at things from positive viewpoints – that much anyone who spent more than five minutes in her company could tell you. That had changed recently during the conflict she'd observed centering on their new teacher and Eva's assistant, Chachamaru Karakuri. She'd witnessed a side of the Dean's granddaughter that reminded her of her ancestry, when the normally polite, bubbly, pleasant girl had torn into her roommate with a verbal lash equipped with thorns and nine tails.

"Girl definitely got her temper from her mother," Mana muttered to herself, glad there were counters to that temper obvious in her background as well. Namely, the Dean and her father.

All that had little bearing on the here and now, however. Adjusting her scope, she zoomed in on her classmate, frowning at what she noted. "'The Principles of the Spheres'? That's a magic student primer… keys, and a box of Pocky?" Mana sat back and considered that for a moment, before the obvious conclusion occurred to her and she palmed her face with a grimace.

True, at least in some part, the current situation was slated to happen tonight anyway… but it would be her luck that it went tits-up right at the end of the operation. "I wonder who I get to blame this on," she groused, quickly packing up her kit as her sense of unease grew.

—

Setsuna's answer was to toss the redhead a small folded piece of paper. Ranma caught it deftly, having sensed nothing about it in the moment she'd spared it in-flight. Some would consider her paranoid, but she knew damn well what kind of tricks someone could put in a simple slip of paper.

She had some pretty nasty ones herself, in fact.

Unfolding the note, she began to read with relish, her tone dropping and becoming more confused as she did, "The Dean would like to offer you the use of the MSS clubroom… attached key… meeting tonight… wait. What? Wait, wait, wait! This isn't right at all!"

The kenshi quirked a brow slightly at the distressed martial artist. "Oh?"

"Where's the challenge letter? The demand to stay away from your Ojōsama? Promises of vengeance for… well whatever?" Ranma growled as she stuffed the abbreviated note into her pocket before crossing her arms. "You're supposed to challenge me for Konoka's sake, and then get beaten down, and then start scheming ways to get close to her. Don't you know how this is supposed to work?"

Setsuna _stared_. "What on earth…?"

Ranma was clearly too focused on her own explanation however, and ignored the other girl's blatant confusion. "…and then, we'd have this epic rivalry thing, where I would show you techniques while we fought each time. You'd get better obviously, I mean Shinmei-ryū's _alright_, but," Ranma rolled her eyes a bit before laughing quietly. "Right. Anyway, while all that was going on, you'd plot ways to get close to Konoka and I'd be 'fooled' into letting it happen. It was a totally win-win plan!

"And you didn't even intend to fight me at all did you?" Ranma slumped as the confused swordswoman shook her head slowly. "Yeah, I was kind of confused by your lack of intent there, but thought maybe you were just good at hiding it. Damn. I put a lot of work into this too."

"I… can see that," Setsuna murmured, unsure whether to be disturbed or impressed at the depth of Ranma's planning. True, it had fallen quite short of what she'd intended, but there was a certain charm about it. She didn't appreciate the implications about her school very much, particularly in that was inferior in some way, but didn't feel up to arguing the point considering doing so would likely lead to a fight. She wasn't as frightened of the martial artist before her as she had been some days ago, but that still didn't change the fact that she'd bested her teacher here at Mahora quite handily.

She knew there were portions of the Shinmei-ryū School she was unaware of, or yet to reach the level of competence needed to be taught. Those much more advanced techniques and the principles behind them weren't the material for spars, however. They were the pinnacle of the School's arsenal of anti-spirit skills, and as such, had little place in a casual or even heated battle against a flesh-and-blood opponent. True, they could be bent into such a form as to cause harm on such a target… but even the thought of doing so made her slightly ill. Such a perversion of her art wasn't something she'd contemplate. Never mind the likely swift and final repercussion of the school itself to such a thing. 'They'd likely send Tsuruko-sensei,' she mused morbidly, shuddering slightly at scenario playing through her mind.

"You alright there? You went really pale and started shivering."

"Yes," Setsuna murmured, snapping out of her waking nightmare. "I am fine." Still, there was the martial artist before her and her intent to address. The question was of course, did she bother? She would likely regret this but… "Do you intend to continue your association with Ojōsama?"

Ranma tilted her head at the nearly resigned tone the question was asked in. "Uh, well yeah. I mean she's a nice girl, and we seem to be getting along alright. We're classmates, and work together. We're friends," the redhead explained simply. "I've not had many of those."

"You asked what I was going to 'do about it', earlier, in regard to your friendship with Ojōsama," the swordswoman laid out, picking her words carefully. "I am curious. Do you value that friendship above your… plan?"

Startled somewhat, Ranma thought over Setsuna's words with initial confusion, then mild annoyance and chagrin. "What? Oh, I get it. You're worried I was just using her somehow, to start that whole thing up. No, I wasn't really thinking like that, but I get why you'd think so," she muttered, bringing a hand up to rub at her chin in thought. "Huh, that did seem like kind of a dick move, looking back on it from that point of view."

Setsuna nodded minutely. "I would rather your 'plan' not come to light, to Ojōsama. It may damage her regard for you, and she seems to genuinely consider you a friend. I would expect no less from someone with a similar claim."

Ranma flinched from that, dropping her head a little while tugging at her braid where it lay before her shoulder. "Alright, alright. I get it. Sheesh, and here I was just trying to help, you know?"

The Shinmei-ryū swordswoman spared the martial artist a slight grin, little more than the lift of a corner of her lips. "I see that. However, things were never so simple between us."

"Yeah? Well, what about now? I know there's that whole 'keep magic secret' thing going on, and the Dean's probably going to throw half a library at me for getting his granddaughter caught up in my crap, but you can talk to her at least now, right?"

"Saotome-san," the kenshi muttered, shaking her head slightly, missing Ranma's eyes narrowing. "There are things you don't understand—"

"Well, what's so big that you can't talk with her about it? I mean you two seemed to be pretty close from what she said," Ranma pointed out, but rather than accept her words, the face of young woman before her closed down further. "Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad."

Setsuna didn't appreciate how lightly the woman across from her considered her duty and how she went about it. However, she wasn't some uncouth ruffian or barbarous ignorant. Reacting to blunt or rude situations with her sword was the sort of thing that was inexcusable. Most of the time. "I do not expect you to understand, Saotome-san. I sim—"

"My name," Ranma growled out, startling the swordswoman, "is _Ranma_. I thought I made that clear in class? Drop the 'Saotome-san' thing. Really. Like right now."

"I, uh. Very well then," Setsuna fumbled, blinking rapidly.

Ranma nodded sharply. "Alright. That handled, let me explain something I've learned to you," pacing once more, though this time without the expectant tension of before, the martial artist began. "You're yōjimbo; that much we've gathered. You're Kono-chan's protector. I've dealt with this kind of thing before, so it's not so strange to me.

"What's strange, is that you're only half-doing your job, despite how serious you're taking it."

The hand holding her sword clenched at that claim, rattling the blade within. "Explain yourself," Setsuna demanded, her voice sheathing steel.

"I was getting to it, yeesh," Ranma groused with a roll of her eyes. "So this is how I figure it; you were hired or given your job by someone in Kyoto back when you were both kids. She's from there, and you were either training there, or were brought in early because of your age.

"I've heard of that kind of thing, but it's not something I've run into much, personally. Usually with the old houses, schools like yours, or maybe people way too fond of the old traditions. Anyway, you were there. I know Kyoto's where the Shinmei-ryū are based, so maybe it was some kind of political agreement between them and whoever hired you. I can guess Kono-chan's a pretty big target, considering who she's related to and all.

"So, they let you two hang around one another while you're small. Maybe you were just getting into your school, and they hadn't hit you with the duty stick yet. But then something happened. Maybe you slipped. Maybe she did something stupid—"

Setsuna did _not_ snarl at the martial artist. It was merely a slip of her expression in surprise at the light nearby flickering.

"—but the bottom line is the same. You took that duty spiel and what happened and decided you got too close maybe. Maybe you thought your emotions were clouding up your perceptions or that you couldn't be objective. I have no idea, but I know you do.

"The bottom line is that one day you just shut down. But, your job got easier, didn't it?" Ranma didn't wait for some kind of response, instead focusing on pushing forward with what she was seeing with her mind's eye. "You didn't have all the distractions. You could focus more on what going on around Kono-chan, just what you could see _with_ her." Turning, blue eyes met hard near-black. "See, the problem with that is, your job got easier, but Kono-chan? She lost her best friend."

Setsuna stumbled back as if struck. "Wh-what?"

Ranma stalked closer as she paced, closing the distance little by little. She'd been making a lot of wild accusations, but they were things that she could understand. When put into context as 'social battle', the maneuverings of people got much clearer to her. She still had blind spots and tended to her own blunt methods, but understanding other people had gotten easier, not that meant very much in the greater scheme of things. She still screwed up – badly – at times. This time, she just happened to have had some references to pull off of, to put things into context. After all, those old schools still had very traditional methods, so there was documentation around one could read up on to figure things out to a degree. The old system where lifelong bodyguards were trained alongside the people they were set to protect was something they still told stories about, for instance. It didn't really take her long to figure the girl before her out, watching her discreetly in class, and with Konoka's few but detailed stories in mind.

"You blind or something?" Ranma continued, keeping Sakurazaki off her mental balance. "That girl misses you. It wasn't like you took away her ball or something, Sakurazaki. How about this, let's think back on it a bit. How many friends did she have? How many kids were around her back then?"

"None," the kenshi replied quietly. "It was too much of a risk. She was the daughter of the chief of Kansai. There were no few people who didn't recall the recent conflicts with the Kantō Association and their Western mages, or who had not lost someone during them. Only those who could be vetted with absolute certainty were allowed to freely mingle with Ojōsama's household."

Her demeanor shifting to one less confrontational, Ranma let her steps slow as well. "And then there's that thing with the Dean, right? How he set up a marriage between Kono-chan's dad and his daughter. Bet people weren't thrilled by that, either."

Setsuna nodded solemnly. "Understatement, really. There are even now some who work to undermine the peace they symbolize."

"People don't like their ideals being messed with," the martial artist surmised with a slight smile. "Which brings us back to you, and how you messed up. You were Kono-chan's only friend growing up. Chances are they _expected_ you to be, and if you hadn't gotten close to her, you'd have been pulled out of that spot," Ranma pointed out, causing the kenshi to startle. She regardless nodded slowly, seeing the supposition as reasonable; it was a sensible sort of thing, and even she had to admit the value of a trusted friend over a blasé mercenary in such a position. "You're yōjimbo. That means you're her guardian.

"I'm guessing you did a good job here," Ranma explained, waving a hand over her body. "She didn't seem to have had too much in the way of injuries or anything. So I'm guessing you kept her safe. But, what about here?" Tapping her chest lightly, Ranma met the eyes of the frozen swordswoman standing across from her. "A person isn't just a body, Sakruazaki."

Setsuna bit her lip and looked away sharply. "I-it was not m-my place."

No more than a few paces away, Ranma scoffed at that. "Then whose was it?"

Having no answer to that question, the swordswoman shook her head unsteadily. "What you are saying, it cannot be correct. There are things that despite your intuition in this situation, you do not understand."

Ranma rubbed at her forehead in irritation. "You're not going to budge on this are you?"

"I am afraid not."

With a resigned sigh, Ranma nodded. "Huh. I suppose I have to go with Plan B."

Setsuna had nearly missed how close the martial artist had gotten, but the awareness came too slowly to stop what happened next. Once more, Ranma simply seemed to materialize into her personal space. A single piercing touch aimed at a spot at the base of her neck caused the young woman to seize up with a strangled 'gurk!' before she went utterly limp, dropping her sword as she began to fall like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Plan B," Ranma mused, catching the insensate Sakurazaki before she could hit the ground. "Show up with a knocked out Setsuna, and get Konoka to use the infamous 'lap-pillow' technique till you wake up. Of course I should probably paralyze you somehow before that… don't want you running through any walls trying to escape or anything. I plan on getting my deposit back one day."

"She's going to be rather cross with you, you know."

Ranma spared the other third of the Mahora Special Security team an abbreviated wave from where one of her hands was occupied with keeping Sakurazaki settled on her shoulder. "Oh, hey Tatsumiya. Say, would you mind carrying her sword? I know how touchy people can get about that."

Mana simply sighed, but did as Ranma suggested. "You don't seem surprised to see me," she stated more than asked as she picked up Yūnagi from where it had fallen. The oversized nōdachi was too long for her tastes, and frankly she didn't understand Setsuna's fondness for the weapon considering her own slight frame. It wasn't her business, however, so she didn't ask.

"I figured you'd be around to check on your partner, sooner or later," the martial artist explained to her taller classmate. "Especially since I sent Kono-chan back to my place alone."

"You expected me to see that, did you?"

"Figured it couldn't hurt," Ranma shrugged. "Besides, I was pretty set on running into you one way or another after she gave me that note."

The part-time priestess chuckled lowly at that, shaking her head as she kept pace with the martial artist and her unwilling cargo. "So she managed to deliver it. Do you recall the meeting it mentioned?"

Ranma did, however she'd completely neglected to pay it much attention. "Oh crap," she muttered, wishing she'd put the note in her other pocket now. At least then she could discreetly retrieve it without being too obvious. "Uh, you don't happen to know…"

Mana smiled slightly, her amber eyes glinting faintly in the twilight as the two made their way back toward the campus proper. "We won't be late if we hurry. By the way, the meeting is with the Dean."

"Double crap."

Mana tucked her free hand into her pocket, humming quietly to herself. The weight of her kit settled along her back comfortably, her larger tools folded and disassembled inside. "Mhm. He seemed particularly anxious to speak with you, in fact."

"Urk."

"But, that said… I agree with Plan B."

Ranma's head snapped around so quickly that her braid slapped against Sakurazaki's rump with an audible 'crack'. Both figures froze for a moment as the unconscious kenshi muttered a quiet "not… so rough… Ojōsama," in her forced sleep. Taking a deep breath, the martial artist stated quiet firmly, "That didn't happen."

Mana nodded, though her grin said otherwise. "Sure. I didn't hear a thing."

"Excellent," Ranma agreed. "Now, what did you mean about Plan B?"

Snorting, the part-time priestess waved a hand at where Sakurazaki was draped across Ranma's shoulder. "I'm getting tired of her sighing and moping around on patrol constantly. 'Ojōsama' this, 'Kono-chan' that. The girl needed to either get drunk, get locked in a closet with Konoe, or both. Preferably on a hot summer day."

Nodding, Ranma could only snicker at the mental image for that, though, it did seem slightly different than her own take on the situation… "So, you mean sword-girl here has a crush on Konoka? They aren't just estranged friends?"

"If by crush you mean utter and total devotion with a side of pervert stalker, then sure."

That brought the martial artist up short for various reasons. "Eh? Pervert?" Ranma eyed the slight weight on her shoulder with a raised brow. "Huh. Never would have seen that one."

"Period dramas," Mana offered, counting off points on her fingers. "The kind with the noble lady seducing the loyal maid or bodyguard. She also has one of those kinky maid uniforms. Don't get me started on what's in her nightstand, or what's she's _named_ it."

"Please," Ranma muttered, blinking with wide eyes. "Don't. But, uh. Why do you know those… things?"

"She's my roommate."

"Oh. So, yeah, I suppose that would get kinda tiresome after a while."

"Three. _Years_."

"Or three years," Ranma agreed with a rapid nod of her head – which she carefully made sure kept her braid nowhere near Sakurazaki. "So, you think she's just shy about approaching Konoka about things, on top of everything else?"

Mana spared the redhead an assessing gaze. "Martial schools that have a heavy focus on discipline rarely balance out the emotional side of a person's growth. Sure, they don't directly stunt it most times, but teaching someone to push it into their focus, or redirect it, or simply meditate to lessen the 'effect' isn't uncommon." Seeing the cursed girl nod, she continued, "Sakurazaki has no idea how to approach Konoe, much less the confidence to do so. Compared to what she does know – the Shinmei-ryū – she probably feels like a bumbling neophyte in that regard."

"Yeah," Ranma agreed, masking her own sympathetic flinch at the blunt assessment. An assessment she could have applied to herself recently, and found quite accurate. Still could, if she was being honest with herself, though more recent situations were helping to broaden her scope, finally. "Guess that makes sense."

"So, the best thing we can do to help both Konoe and Sakurazaki, is this," the dark-skinned young woman stated, promptly producing what looked like a dart suited for use in a firearm of some sort. "This way, you don't have to worry about her escaping once Konoe engages that 'lap-pillow' technique you were mumbling about earlier."

"That's a dart?" Seeing Mana nod, Ranma continued, "And what's in it?" She asked with a growing sense of unease.

"Curare."

—

Fifteen minutes later found a wide-eyed Konoka ushered out of the door she'd just opened as it admitted more people than she was expecting. "Um! Oh, ah. Good evening, Tatsumiya-san."

The normally stoic girl favored her with a slight grin and a nod, before turning to the redhead accompanying her... Who was carrying someone on her shoulder? "Now, that dart will only keep her paralyzed about an hour. Despite how slight she looks, Sakurazaki's got a good constitution. We should get to that meeting." So saying she leaned a familiar, simple, pale wooden sword sheathe up against the wall by the door.

Wait. Dart? Paralyzed? _Sakurazaki_? "Secchan?"

"Yep!" Her host chirped, slinging the bundle across her shoulders down and onto the couch with a muffled 'whump!'. "Found her on the way over, and decided to bring her back."

Konoka shook her head at that. "Wait, you found her? On the way?" What she'd just asked registered in her own mind at that point and she darted over to the couch at speed, checking the lightly snoring figure who had curled up on her side rapidly for any sign of injury. "What happened to her?"

Ranma shrugged, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as she sucked air between her teeth, "Huh, I don't know. I mean one minute she was just, you know, doing that broody thing she does then," the redhead slumped suddenly as if pantomiming something. "Out like a light. Damnedest thing, really."

"Uh, huh," the Dean's granddaughter muttered, eying the martial artist for a moment before returning her attention to her sleeping friend. True, there didn't seem to be anything outwardly amiss; no bruising, obviously broken bones, and no obvious cuts or blood thankfully. Konoka paused in her assessment, as she came upon one anomaly. It was rather obvious, considering it was sticking out of Setsuna's behind. "Is… is that a _dart_?"

"What? No! How silly would that be?"

"I have no idea what you could be talking about."

Konoka sighed, closing her eyes and counting silently to herself. When she reached ten, she opened her eyes once more and smiled brightly. "I'm going to make some tea for myself and Secchan when she wakes up—"

"Allow me," Mana muttered before leaving the room as quickly as her long strike could carry her. Which, Ranma noted with a silently mouthed 'traitor!' at her back, was pretty damn fast.

For her part, the martial artist turned a beaming smile to her temporary roommate, who's happy expression was cracking almost audibly. "Hey, I have an idea! You know, since she's not feeling too well, maybe Setsuna would like to get more comfortable."

Konoka's gaze was sharp as she took in the slight damp sheen of sweat on Ranma's forehead. "Oh? And how would you accomplish that?"

"Here, why don't you sit—"

Mana's voice broke in from the kitchen. "Ranma, where's the kettle?"

"Under the stove!" the redhead bellowed, before turning with a smile back to Konoka. "Just sit down and we'll get her all comfy, alright?"

The dark-haired girl hummed suspiciously, but regardless seated herself on Ranma's couch without any more argument or pause. "Alright, now what?"

"Now we just move her—"

There was the sound of a cupboard closing, and an annoyed huff from the kitchen. "Ranma, where's the tea?"

"Over the sink!" Ranma bellowed with a twitching eye before taking a deep breath, returning to the much touchier situation at hand. Didn't Mana know she was busy at the moment? Bothering her about the little stuff when she had the Boss of the whole plan eying her like that? "Now, as I was saying, we just scoot her up so her head's resting on your lap."

Konoka's mild ire evaporated as Ranma snapped into a flurry of motion, and she was suddenly pinned beneath the surprisingly slight weight provided by a sleeping Setsuna Sakurazaki. For her part, the unconscious swordswoman reacted to the sudden motion and warmth by reaching over and bunching a corner of Konoka's shirt in her hand with a sleepy murmur.

Ranma watched all the fight melt out of Konoka as a slight smile worked its way across her face. Even she had to admit that was cute! This could work! "Alright. Now, I'm going to get a damp towel in case she might have a fever or something," the martial artist murmured, backing away slowly from the tableau before her.

As expected, Konoka was too busy staring down at Setsuna to notice her. Regardless she moved slowly, knowing rapid action or loud noises would pull the young woman's attention once mor—"

The sound of the sink being played with preceded Mana's griping. "Does this hot water even work?"

"It needs a second to warm up!" Ranma bellowed into the kitchen, before slapping a hand over her mouth. Turning slowly, she was relieved to see Konoka idly running her fingers through Setsuna's hair.

She'd just loosed a sigh of relief, she Konoka's voice cracked the silence with deceptive gentleness. "When you get back from your meeting, you will explain this."

"Uh, sure. Yeah, sure thing," Ranma agreed with a nervous laugh. "I mean, not that there's much to explain really! Like I said, I just happened across her, then 'thump'. Completely out of the blue!"

She was saved from Konoka's disbelieving look as Mana _finally_ showed up with some tea. "You know," the tallest of the three muttered as she bent to sit the tray near where Konoka was seated, "you didn't have to scream. I was just in the other room."

"_You shut your mouth_," Ranma hissed before turning a smile to Konoka. "Well! I suppose it's time for us to head out. See you later, Kono-chan!"

Mana nodded, rising just as suddenly as she started walking toward the door. "Have a good evening, Konoe-san."

As the door slammed shut after them, Konoka breathed out a sigh, which then became a quiet laugh. "Those two…"

Setsuna shifted with a small sound, turning her face into Konoka's stomach. "Mmph… Ojōsama… not _there_."

"Eep."

—

"Huh," Ranma murmured, slapping an ofuda on her door with a nearly tangible sense of relief. "That actually worked."

"Barely," Mana offered, inspecting the rapidly dispersing sealing writ with a critical eye. "That was a nicely made seal. I wasn't aware you studied at a temple."

Ranma scoffed at that before wrinkling her nose at her shirt, after looking down and seeing the state it was in. She was still running around in the one Eva's afternoon of experiments had left stained and wrinkled. True, she wasn't really as prone to bouts of feminine modesty or caring about her clothes too much, but she was trying to make a good impression on people with this new beginning she'd been offered. Running around in a filthy shirt just wasn't going to cut it.

"Here, hang on a second," she muttered, fingers deftly undoing the buttons, before she whipped the shirt over her head and at the confusedly blinking Mana. "Now, where is that spare… damn."

"Um."

"Hang on. I think… no. That's a towel." Ranma seemed to be trying to scratch at her back, though the part-time priestess had an idea that was definitely not what was going on. Also, towel? "Did I forget to put it in there?"

Mana shook her head. Her assessment of Ranma's martial potential went up, seeing her without a shirt close up. The amount of muscle tone the shorter girl had was impressive. "Unless you managed to hide a towel in the latch of your bra… What the hell?"

There was a pile of things in the apartment hallway that hadn't been there a moment before. "Towel, pack of sealing papers, ink, thermoses, more paper, brushes, rubber duck? Oh hell no," the aforementioned bath toy hurtled past Mana at a significant portion of the speed of sound. "More ink, my jacket, spare panties, pair of pants… damn. Forgot to pack a shirt."

Blinking down at the small collection of things, Mana pointed with a raised brow. "You don't strike me as the Gekota type."

"Huh?" Ranma looked down where the taller girl was pointing and blushed crimson as the panties disappeared in a blur. "They were on sale!"

"Mhm."

Ranma grumbled as she started pulling things behind her back, making them disappear. "Never mind that. I guess I'll just go to the meeting with a dirty shirt, then."

"Well, you look to be about my size in the places it matters," Mana noted, eyeing the redhead up and down critically. "You're what, a 75C or D?"

"Eh? Yeah around that. How'd you know?"

"Aside from that looking like what I wear," Mana explained, indicating Ranma's simple bra, "there was the health check the other day. You and I are of a size… well. There at least."

The martial artist grumbled at her slow growth, as far as her height was concerned anyway. She was beginning to catch up, but it was going to take a while yet. Given, Mana was tall even for people considered tall, but still. It would be nice to not feel so off-center, compared to her male form. "Well, if you have anything that won't look like a dress on me, I'd appreciate it."

Waving off the other's girl's concern, she handed her back her shirt, which Ranma just as quickly put back on. "I have some things similar to this. You can return it sometime once you start joining us on patrols."

—

"It's funny," Ranma noted as they moved from the residential area where Mana's dorm was located, and started making their way toward the staff offices. "No matter where you go on campus, it seems like you're headed toward that tree."

At the martial artist's side Mana nodded as she settled her long jacket about her shoulders. She'd decided, since they were already at her dorm to change into her more comfortable 'work' clothes. Those consisted mainly of a long coat over a brief skin-tight armless leotard and her pistol holsters, a pair of shorts or slacks, and a set of chaps that she had protective seals set into, much like the jacket. It was an eclectic sort of ensemble, but then, a shrine priestess that used guns to perform exorcisms wasn't exactly mainstream either.

The amusement as Ranma ducked and hid her eyes while she was changing only served as a bonus. "The campus is organized so that the World Tree stands at the point of a triangle," the shootist explained. "When you're walking to class or any of the associated buildings from the outlying areas, it sits behind them. With how the area is laid out, if you're heading back to your dorm, the roads typically curve around so that you get a sidelong view of things at a few points."

"Seems pretty deliberate." Something tickled at Ranma's awareness, causing her to frown. It was faint, but intense. She likened it to how someone described to her how people would get the sensation of hearing a very high pitched sound randomly at times. She shook the sensation off, "Though, I guess it does make some sense. Makes you remember where you are."

"Which is important, at times," Mana agreed. "Making this the center of the Kantō Association was a risky choice. One I don't really agree with, but what's done is done."

Ranma considered that point with an expression of distaste. "Yeah, I can see that. I don't much like the idea that so many kids are around this much magic. It just puts everyone at risk."

Mana regarded the redhead ruefully. "You're mostly worried about the magic affecting them? Not conflicts between different Associations, like Kansai?"

"If the mages weren't here, then there wouldn't be a problem," Ranma declared heatedly. "Still, it does seem like a bad choice. It's almost like they're holding the students hostage against other people acting against them, now that you mention it."

"Mahora is a tactical location for a number of reasons," the part-time priestess countered, honestly surprised at her coworker's ire in that regard. "It's a natural nexus of ley energy, with the World Tree at the center. The wards around the extended campus are some of best outside of the great shrines, and with the terrain, it's not so easy to approach."

"Maybe for machinery, but people?" Ranma laughed mirthlessly. "All that forest cover, the hills near them? That's perfect for small groups. Having so much water nearby is basically the same thing. Anyone that really wants to get to the heart of this place just has to do it on foot. Or by air, but that's a given," she added with less enthusiasm.

Mana was quite aware of those weaknesses, but wasn't expecting someone else outside her own realm of experience to have picked up on them as well. On the other hand, it was nice to have someone around that had the same sort of mindset for things that she did. "At least the campus has a number of strategic points of observation."

Ranma bobbed her head in a noncommittal gesture. "True, but how useful are they to the people here?" Seeing the clear question on Mana's face, she elaborated, "Well, you're good with guns, right? But who else could use them as well? Do the mages here have your kind of accuracy and range to take advantage of them?"

"Most of the Academy mages are more medium range," the exorcist admitted, having not considered that herself. She also had to admit, most of her own observations were made from the standpoint of someone who had people of similar skill and armament in mind. "As far as range goes, I'm pretty much the top end of the spectrum."

"The campus is full of either wide open spaces," Ranma indicated, pointing to their own wide lane near the staff offices and closer to the 'heart' of the campus, "or narrow little alleys between blocks of dorms or classrooms. It's pretty lousy security from a terrain standpoint. It was obviously a school or just privately owned before it was supposed to be the center of some big Association."

"Hm." A chirp from the taller girl's cellphone grabbed her attention. "Hold that thought."

"Which reminds me," Ranma mused to herself as she waited for Mana to finish her call, "I should get a phone. Seems everyone in class has one these days."

"They're _where_? I thought the reports had them just arriving in Japan?!"

Peering over at the exorcist as her posture took a definite shift into the aggressive, Ranma started to scan her surroundings with a bit more scrutiny. Maybe that strange feeling she'd gotten earlier wasn't just some random background noise from all the magical bullshit at the Academy.

"She's right here," Mana replied to an unheard question. "Yeah, here."

Ranma nearly dropped the phone when it was thrust into her hands, as Mana slung the large case off her shoulder and onto the ground with a resounding 'bang!'. Bringing the device to her ear, she offered a hesitant "Hello?" to whoever was on the line.

"Ah," a wizened voice murmured in her ear, "you are there with Tatsumiya-san. It seems the meeting I wanted to have with you may need to be postponed."

"Huh, that you old guy?"

The sound of Mana assembling a rifle stole Ranma's attention until the voice on the phone spoke again. "Yes," the Dean of Mahora affirmed with clear amusement. "I was originally going to ask you to take a look at some photographs that were taken by one of my associates on the western coast earlier, but it appears to be a moot point now."

Ranma considered those words with a mild sense of concern. Worse, she never liked it when old people seemed this happy. It never boded well for her. "Oh? Why's that?"

"The people I had thought to ask you to identify were just recently sighted outside of the metropolitan area."

"And they were headed this way?"

"Perhaps not," the Dean allowed, as Ranma turned sharply to her left, going very still. "However, I believe, based on their description that they were most likely looking for you. I have been lead to understand that they have followed a path leading almost directly to Mahora since making landfall."

The cursed martial artist narrowed her eyes as she rattled off a list to the Dean, "Five women, ages ranging from about mid-teens to middle-aged, wearing silk clothing in variations on traditional Chinese styles, mostly in tones of blue and gray. Hair colors ranging from brunette to blue and teal. Oh, and they'd be carrying some pretty interesting _baggage_ for tourists."

The Dean hummed quietly before making a sound of agreement. "Ah, well. Yes. That's them. How did you know?"

"They're across the street," Ranma replied, closing the phone and handing it back to Mana as she scanned her surroundings discreetly. The exorcist took it back while bracing a rifle on her thigh, a large caliber slug held in her teeth as she pocketed the thing. They were nearly to the central staff offices of the Academy, which meant it was too populated, too central by _far_ for the kind of fight that was going to break out. "Talk you out of getting involved here?"

Tatsumiya replied by cocking her rifle with a sharp sound, then slinging it across her back as she loosened the straps on her underarm holsters. "Nope."

Ranma expected as much, nodding as she relaxed her left hand, letting the _mala_ there unwind with an ominous clatter. In the tense silence, the jade sounded more like hollow bones rattling. "Then you might want to _move!_"

—

As far as running battles went, Ranma had dealt with worse. Immediately, she's broken with Mana as the exorcist had taken an almost lateral path compared to her own full retreat. She didn't expect that the Joketsuzoku wanted to paint a target on their head's due to a bodycount of students from Mahora, so both sides of the upcoming conflict wordlessly agreed to move their battle somewhere with less collateral damage. For that alone, Ranma was willing to cut the Chinese hunter team some slack. It didn't mean she was going to let them determine the battlefield, however.

Leaning forward into her sprint fully, Ranma cycled her ki roughly through her chakras, awakening her body with a jolt that left her feeling light-headed and giddy. She hated it, but it was the cost of sealing herself – when the seal was broken, she nearly felt drugged with the sudden influx of energy. Besides the sudden and blistering energy coursing through her body, her perceptions sharpened, while her mind's grasp of the passing moments seemed to slow. It was an illusion of her brain reacting to the sudden abundance of ki, but it regardless gave her a few extra, precious moments to set her plan.

Though the battle proper had yet to begin, the first probing strikes were being made as sped through Mahora in a roundabout path taking them back toward the heavier forests north of the campus proper. She wondered where Mana had gotten to briefly, before something stole her attention back to her own predicament. A pair of slender knives skipped across the pavement before her, thrown by one of her pursuers; she didn't know which beyond they had been to her left when she heard the whistle of air splitting from the blades passing her. As they bounced and clattered, she snapped out a hand and tucked one into the crook of her palm.

The street they were following ended abruptly ahead, turning sharply to the north. Ranma chanced a burst of speed before hopping lightly, turning her back to her own path as she surveyed the pursuing team of Joketsuzoku, her trajectory continuing to carry her on a course to the wall. The two lithe fighters of the team were hanging back slightly, one bearing the wide sleeves and loose clothing Ranma had come to associate with those that used the Hidden Weapons style she'd most regularly encountered from Xian Pu's paramour Mu Tsu. Not that it was a two-sided situation anymore than her own with the Joketsuzoku girl was. She got the label 'Ducky', partly for her resemblance to Mu Tsu, and partly for her hairstyle which resembled one.

More concerning was the figure currently running point to the formation, bearing a massive kanabō that looked to be nearly the width of a telephone pole with an ease that made the martial artist wince. She rarely worried about people with big weapons, but a woman with an Oni's club that size gave her pause. Worse, the woman looked to be getting along in years, which Ranma had learned early on usually meant she was _dangerous_. Spending time with the Phoenix after her change and working to re-secure their borders only emphasized that view, as most of the few times she'd had problems or came away wounded were from teams with an older leader or member in their number.

Nearly abreast of the older Amazon sprinted a woman with a similar build to her own, with a pair of small swords sheathed along the small of her back beneath a rather ornate bow with trailing ribbons. Ranma pegged her as a speed-type, and on the mental corkboard she began to plan on, labeled her 'Bows'. Flanking 'Tank' as she'd labeled the older Amazon on the other side, Ranma spied one of her pursuers wearing a motley arrangement of pouches and satchels about her person, sporting no weapons or indication she had any. Immediately alarmed, the redhead snapped the knife in her hand at the woman in the final moments of her flagging jump.

She heard rather than saw the kanabō snap to the side to defend the woman, as she was suddenly concerned with the wall she was closing in on. Tucking her legs under her, Ranma changed her angle of momentum slightly, finishing the spin her desperate throw had started. Now facing the approaching wall at crushing speed, she unfurled like a kite, catching the wind with her clothing as she slowed fractionally and prepared for impact.

If the Joketsuzoku expected her to hit the wall directly rather than possibly try to alter her momentum to make the turn somehow, they didn't show it. They were less prepared when Ranma cratered that wall beneath her feet, before springing back off and directly back at them.

Eyes wide and wind-milling their arms to try and prepare for the sudden assault, the Joketsuzoku were caught flat-footed as Ranma speared through their loose formation like a launched arrow. With an almost casual motion she reached out in passing, a layer of sharp ki along her forearm as she passed between 'Tank' and the as-yet unnamed woman with the pouches. Too concerned with stopping her rather significant momentum, Tank was unprepared to defend the woman, and none of the other hunters were much better. Two strikes that she judged weren't worth her attention were ignored as Ranma met the panicking woman's eyes in that moment before she sailed past with a muted roar of wind ripping at her clothing.

'Medic' as Ranma would identify her later, made a weak defense with her arms, more a warding gesture than anything else. Ranma didn't so much as slow as the blade of ki and wind along her braced arm slashed through the woman's arms and beyond. In her wake a spray of blood misted in the air, followed with the hollow 'thuk, thunk, thump' of a head hitting the ground.

Ranma didn't bother to turn and survey the carnage as she tumbled and regained her feet, focusing entirely on regaining the initiate and getting the likely enraged Joketsuzoku to follow her outside what little of the Academy they were still within. A spray of steel bit at her heels, telling her that Ducky was definitely following, but what she wasn't prepared for was the sudden appearance of the one girl she'd barely noted, right in her path.

Screaming something incoherent in Mandarin, the brown-haired, unremarkable, honestly rather plain girl nearly took her head off as she spat out what to Ranma's senses was a plane of force the size of a small car. The sonic attack – 'Noisy', Ranma named the girl idly – sailed past her at an angle, cutting a swath of destruction across the street and a storefront that had it collapsing in on itself instantly. Not unscathed from the miss, Ranma noted the ringing in her ears and the faint, warm, concerning dampness across her neck.

"Ruptured eardrums," she surmised into the ringing silence, tucking into a spin that took her past the girl as she caught her breath for a second 'scream'. Leaning further into her sprint, Ranma chanced a look behind her and winced.

Bows was in the process of dodging around Noisy, giving her a wide berth as she drew her swords. The reason became clear as Ducky was bowed down in front of Noisy, loading the air with a nearly solid sheet of sharpened steel. Braced behind the sound-wielding Amazon, Tank had settled her shoulder into the girl's back, which set the warning flags going up in Ranma's mind into overdrive.

'FuckfuckFUCK!' she screamed within her mind, dropping limiters she'd not touched for months. It _had_ to be enough, it _would_ be enough—

"_**BREAK!**_" she outwardly screamed, causing the _mala_ on her hand to shatter in a flash of malevolent power that countered the sudden spike of her own ki manifesting as a collapse of silver-shot motes, forming a pair of sharply-angled wings along her back that tore through Mana's borrowed shirt. With a desperate heave she bent to launch herself upward—

"_DIIIIEEEEEEEE!_"

'Too slow,' Ranma cursed, as she curled her manifested wings about her like a cocoon, the steep climb she'd planned aborted as the literal wall of swords washed over her. The tide hit and took her aside as if she'd been sitting there waiting for it, wholly ignoring her attempted leap to safety.

Her world was a hell of swords and sound, both sweeping her up and swatting her like an errant fly down the street. Striking her at nearly the speed sound that carried them, the blades were far beyond her natural or ki-enhanced toughness to deflect or mitigate. Dozens of blades pierced and slashed at her wings, cutting them to a ruin of feathers and blood that in places were little more than shredded tatters instantly. Some of those were pinned in turn to the street itself or her, as the swords, daggers, and random blades the Hidden Weapons user had sacrificed to the sound-user had easily bypassed the weak defense of her shielding wings.

Stunned and still reeling from the impact of sound which had literally concussed her from the inside out, Ranma was barely aware of her current state. Oh, she knew on an empirical level that was in deep trouble, but the actual, visceral reaction had yet to process. She knew she was pinned to the ground like a butterfly by half a dozen swords, while what parts of her weren't outright impaled were littered with wicked gashes and still-embedded blades that had at some points been ripped and warped into even more dangerous forms by the sonic bomb that had launched them.

Her field of view was fouled, and Ranma didn't bother to guess why, letting her head loll to the side bonelessly. Blood dripped across her good eye from the motion, but she didn't blink, instead focusing with all her concentration on the Joketsuzoku.

The four remaining women were standing loosely in formation still, surrounding Noisy as she gripped at her throat with a pained expression. Tank was still watching over her, but her attention was lax and she was wearing a wide, pleased grin on her face. Of the four, Ducky seemed the most distraught, sparing glances back at the cooling corpse of her fellow hunter, left headless and bleeding out behind them some distance. Bows was simply holding her blades at attention idly, looking about the street for further threats.

"So that was the Phoenix's pet demon, eh?" Tank's Mandarin was rough and peppered with small bits of nuance she couldn't quite place, but Ranma recognized it well enough. She'd been exposed to the Joketsuzoku dialect for years, after all. Hearing through one ear that seemed packed with tinfoil however… that was new.

Noisy tried to say something but instead coughed into her hand, which came away bloody. "Stop, Xue. You'll just end up mute for a month again," Bows chided in a cold tone. "Now, what the hell _was_ that? Have you three been practicing that?"

"The elders warned us this one was special," Ducky grumbled, picking up the few weapons that were close at hand, tucking them into her sleeves. "We felt a special attack could be helpful."

"Still," Bows groused, before shaking her head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Our people's shame is erased with this. Elder Khu Lon and her granddaughter will be able to return to the fold, finally."

Tank snorted at that. "Honestly, they were having trouble with _that_? Maybe we'd be better off if they stayed away." Tank flinched as Ducky pinned her with a glare. "What?"

"If you somehow managed to forget it, Gao, Hisen is dead," Ducky snarled, stabbing back the way they came with a blade she'd yet to stow. "Let's not make light of this day, agreed?"

"Yeah, sure," the older woman agreed with a sigh. "Still, I'll be glad to head home—"

"_You're not going anywhere._"

The four Joketsuzoku turned with wide eyes at the figure that was currently tearing itself off a sword that was too fixed into the pavement under it to dislodge. Dragging swords behind her that were still thrust through her wings, and with a handful still impaling her at odd angles, the figure facing them was one out a hardened warrior's nightmare.

Ranma took a breath that hissed around invasive steel and bubbled bright red blood from between her lips. Regardless, she sported a smile that was all red-stained teeth and a wide-open jaw. One side of her face was literally torn practically off, leaving a sheet of red coursing down to her chin, where it dripped steadily with a slow patter to the ground. The ruin of one eye quivered there, iris shattered leaving it a glaring black pit that itself bled into the already significant ruin it was set in.

With a crackling, wet snap the horrible vision twisted a shoulder back into place, causing a blade lodged in its back to clatter to the ground. "_I'm not done with you yet._"

"Th-this one… it's already dead," Tank murmured, shaking her head slowly, unconsciously backing away from the walking nightmare that left bloody pools instead of footprints. "She just doesn't have the sense to lie down and be still."

Ranma shook her ruined wings with a snarl, sending loose blades, feathers, blood, and viscera spraying out in an arc from her sides. Panting shallowly, the martial artist reached up with the hand that wasn't twisted and pinned by a sword to her side, and delicately plucked the intact origami wasp from her hair.

The massive wash of ki that blasted off the lethally wounded martial artist was enough to light the dim street, for the brief moment it outlined her before it was all dumped into the slip of paper that shook angrily in her hand.

Ranma's voice was quiet, despite the resounding echo it held. "_Suzumebachi. Come out and play_."

There was no transition from slip of paper to Shikigami, and whatever the once-more wary Joketsuzoku were expecting from the wounded woman, this was _not_ it.

The sound that buffeted the street wasn't so much a buzz as a fierce, punishing, bass roar that threatened to steal breath and break bone. The droning pulse only grew more oppressive as the figure solidified into full form, the hazy heat-shimmer of its summoning quickly brushed away with a shrug of furious, membranous wings. Above the street, above the top of the nearby, low-roofed buildings, a giant Japanese wasp the size of a military attack helicopter hovered, its antennae twitching fitfully as the massive compound eyes fixed on the four warriors across from its master.

Bows fell backward in shock. "What the hell? What the hell is _that_?"

Ranma's ghoulish laughter echoed from where she continued to drag herself closer, inexorably. With a shuddering wrench, she ripped her pinned arm loose, turned it, and drew the blade that had been stabbed through her body from between the bones of her arm with a grating rasp with her good hand. "_You should have finished me while you had the chance_."

"You intend to fight still?" Ducky's bravado died quickly, as the wasp darted to the side with a jerk, its attention fixed wholly on her suddenly. "Y-you can't even walk! Just give up, a-and we're make your death quick!"

"_Quick?_" A wave of virulent ki pulsed, washed out of the maimed martial artist, then was sucked back in. Left hovering before her were the one-hundred and eight jade beads that had deflected a bare fraction of the damage that had been visited on her in a desperate attempt to shield herself. Each of them bobbed in its own faint limning of ghostly light, pained hisses emanating from them in hellish whispers. A second pulse stilled the mass of sealed jade, only for them to turn and seemingly attack the maimed figure.

Jade stars fixed themselves to the martial artist, dragging at her ki and the body connected as they arranged themselves in a constellation around her. The faint light of their contained and now unsealed yōki mingled with ki being drawn from Ranma resulting in a viscous cloud of poisonous essence that reared up around the maimed woman like a dire shadow. Horned and with great starry pits for eyes, the visage of an Oni from legend regarded those before it with disdain as it swelled larger with each passing moment.

Within the miasma, Ranma felt the welcoming embrace of her once-lover and _smiled_. Mingled ki and yōki seeped into her wounds with a burning sensation that seared at her very concept of self, twisting her essence and branding her fundamental ideal with its corruption at each labored beat of her heart. However painful it was, her blood stilled its dripping as her wounds glimmered faintly like starlight. With each step, Ranma moved a little faster, bled a little less, her motion growing more sure and fluid. "_You had your chance at 'quick'_."

The nightmare's laughter grew manic and was punctuated by the angry thrumm of her summon's wings as they sheared the night. Mirroring her steps, the shadow of a colossus loomed above, eclipsing the half-full moon as the Oni leered down with a star-filled and fanged maw. "_Heh… heh heh.… you just don't get it!_"

With a burst of unnatural speed, the maimed figure closed on them in a spray of her own shed blood. "_I'VE STILL GOT ONE HIT-POINT LEFT!_"

—

AN: Ancient Writing Technique: Bait and Switch. Very deadly, use with caution. _Clearly_. So I bet you were expecting a little fun spar between Ranma and Setsuna? Hahhaha. _Nope_.

So… this is where I point out that shit got real. When I pointed out that Ranma was up in Jusendo reclaiming Phoenix land from the Joketsuzoku some chapters back? Yeah, they didn't like that. And, clearly, they'd progressed beyond subdual damage looong ago, on both sides.

So, basically what was _supposed_ to happen was Ranma would get her dodge out and evade the attempted attack of murderous band o'plot devices. Cue some impressive collateral damage for plot use later. However… I decided some time ago to actually give Ranma a challenge here. So, I had rough stat sheets penned down for each of them. Individually, they'd end up wiped. Together, they made up a 'solid challenge'.

Ranma managed to identify the most dangerous of the party I set up, as 'Medic' not only had the ability to use shiatsu pressure points that could debilitate, but also heal her allies, and deploy wide-area poison attacks that those same allies would be immune to. She made her roll to identify threats, and got Medic as her target. Seeing as how I always intended this to go into lethal territory from the beginning, with how Ranma's been reacting to her condition, her escalation should have not been a surprise. Plus, well – you always kill the priest first. ALWAYS.

However, a critical fail on a defensive maneuver countered by three – THREE – confirmed crits by the hunters? I could have handwaved it. Ranma dodges because Ranma Dodges. But... I wanted to see how it played out.

I literally ended up with Ranma having One Hit Point Left. Ok, this is probably going to get gruesome, but alright. Let's run with it.

Overpowered Suzu summon? Yep. That was already in the cards. Maybe not that overpowered, but hey. She's an adorable engine of terror and destruction – yes she is! Yes she is!

Engage the mala's 'angry protective Oni girlfriend contingency'… check. Huh, I was going to save that for like… _way_ later but ok. I can roll with that. Maybe this will bring me into that 'herculean situation' that some old bastards were considering before…

And now? Next chapter: Where the FUCK is Mana, and Ranma's Zabuza charge.


End file.
